


Strange as Angels

by skyermirth



Category: Raven Cycle - Maggie Stiefvater
Genre: 300 Fox Way (Raven Cycle), 80's Music, Adam Parrish is Bad at Feelings, Alternate Universe, M/M, Minor Richard Gansey III/Blue Sargent, No really a slow slow burn, Not Really Character Death, Punk Rock, Richard Gansey III is a Good Friend, Ronan Lynch is Bad at Feelings, Slow Burn, The 80s were rad, based on a movie, slow burn adam parrish and ronan lynch
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-06-27
Updated: 2020-09-21
Packaged: 2021-03-04 02:48:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 8
Words: 51,766
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24946381
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/skyermirth/pseuds/skyermirth
Summary: Adam takes a job for the summer as Caretaker of the Barns, which local legend says is haunted. Adam soon finds out this is true when he meets the resident “ghost,” who isn’t very scary with his mohawk and grouchy demeanor but romantic heart. Falling in love with a ghost was not what Adam had planned for his summer. (Loosely based on the 1947 movie "The Ghost and Mrs. Muir".)
Relationships: Richard Gansey III/Blue Sargent, Ronan Lynch/Adam Parrish
Comments: 98
Kudos: 159
Collections: TRC Big Bang 2020





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you to my team (Artist: squash1-squash2 | Beta: galwaygremlin) for being patient with me! Your support, assistance, and talents are unmatched! Thank you to TRCBB mods too for wrangling us kittens and getting this together. You're all amazing and deserve all the applause. 
> 
> After many, many years in fandom, this is my first Big Bang! This is the first of three parts. I hope you enjoy.

**Part I**

Adam Parrish hesitated before he shut the door to his locker. When he closed it, it would be for the last time. Adam wasn't one for sentimentality, but even he couldn't ignore the significance of the moment. He stared into the empty space inside the locker, listening to the seniors around him celebrating the last day of school before graduation, and wondered why he felt a bit sad.

On his first day at the prestigious school, the Headmaster had invited him to his office. Excited and eager to please, Adam had rushed to the office. Headmaster Child had sat behind a large oak desk, with his Ivy League diplomas on display behind him, and told Adam, "This is an exceptional opportunity for you, son. The Aglionby Alumni Association are compassionate and generous to offer a scholarship to disadvantaged young men, like yourself, who show initiative and potential. I want to remind you that the scholarship is conditional and can be revoked at any time. Though your academic record to date is outstanding, you might find yourself behind some of the other students given the - well, the different degree of primary school education you've received. There will be no exceptions made for you because of that. No one will feel sorry for you at this school. You are expected to maintain the required grade point average and participate in the necessary school programs and activities in order to keep the scholarship that you have been gifted. If you don't, there are plenty of other boys who will gladly take your place."

Adam's welcome to Aglionby could be summed up as _'Here's our handout, poor barely educated trailer park trash. Don't fuck it up.'_ By that time in Adam's young life, he had learned how to restrain his resentment towards people who put him down. He had reacted with a smile and said, _'Yes, sir. Thank you, sir.'_

It wasn't that he hated Aglionby. He didn't, not really. He knew he didn't owe the school, Child, or the Alumni Association anything. He'd worked harder than anyone else at this school and earned everything that he'd achieved. He'd worked three jobs to pay the partial tuition and to buy books and his uniform, and he still graduated at the top of the class.

Accomplishments didn't bring sadness. They brought pride. Adam decided that he was only feeling a healthy touch of nostalgia as he finished a chapter in his life. He closed his locker with a quiet click and headed down the hall. He had one more thing to do before he left.

He walked against the traffic of students headed towards the outside and to the summer of freedom. Some of them addressed him, yelling, "See you at graduation, Parrish!" or "Yo, you're going the wrong way, dickhead!" None of them were his friends. Their spoiled arrogance and their ignorance towards their own privilege offended him. It didn't matter. He hadn't been at Aglionby to make friends.

"Adam, hey, Adam!"

Richard Campbell Gansey III- or just Gansey- fell into step beside him. They weren't friends, but they'd studied together here and there, partnered in labs once or twice, and, a few times, Adam had helped Gansey get his car started. Gansey didn't offend Adam the same way the others did, which was odd, since Gansey was the textbook definition of the rich, white, privileged young male. Adam couldn't put his finger on precisely what it was. He felt like there was more to Gansey than his charismatic charm and rich and powerful parents.

"Hey, Gansey," Adam said as he transferred his backpack to his other shoulder.

Gansey clasped him on the shoulder. "I'm glad I got to see you before we left." He said it with such sincerity that, for a moment, Adam actually believed that he'd meant it. "Excited about Harvard?"

"Yeah – yeah. How about you? Did I hear that you got into Princeton and Cambridge?"

Gansey pushed up his glasses with his index finger. "Yeah, but I've decided to take a gap year."

Of course, someone like Gansey could afford to take a gap year, probably to sail his yacht along the French Riviera or to go clubbing in Ibiza. Adam chuckled. "Missionary work in Haiti? Maybe Kenya?"

Gansey looked confused. "What…? Oh, no. I'm, um, staying here."

"Here – at school?"

"No. Here in Henrietta."

Adam stopped walking. "Why?"

"I have some unfinished projects."

Adam shrugged. He didn't get it. He didn't care. He pointed to the classroom door behind him. "Well, I have to…"

"Sure." Gansey held out his hand. Adam shook it. And, for a moment, Adam thought that Gansey looked lonely. "Take care, Adam. I'd wish you luck at Harvard, but you don't need it. They're lucky to have you."

"Thanks. Have fun in your gap year."

"Hope to see you around," Gansey said while he turned and walked away. The halls had quieted. A few underclassmen sauntered slowly down the hall. Adam felt compelled to watch Gansey and the relaxed, casual way he jogged a few steps to catch up with them and easily started chatting about Aglionby's soccer team. Someone like Richard Campbell Gansey III could never be lonely, Adam thought. He'd clearly been mistaken.

"Adam!" Adam's history teacher and academic counselor, Mr. Gray, stood in the classroom door with his briefcase in his hand.

"Oh, I'm sorry, sir," Adam said. "You're leaving. I can –"

"Don't worry about it." Mr. Gray stepped backward and waved Adam in. "I asked you to stop by."

Mr. Gray dropped his briefcase on his desk. Adam dropped his backpack on the floor and waved at a seat. "Is this going to be long? Should I sit?"

"No. I won't keep you. I'm sure you can't wait to get out of here." He popped open his briefcase and pulled out a folded piece of paper. "Doing anything to celebrate?"

"A shift at Boyd's and then a late shift at the warehouse."

Mr. Gray looked sympathetic. It was a look that a few years ago Adam would've thought meant pity, but he'd spent enough time getting to know Mr. Gray that he knew it wasn't.

"Well, that's why I asked you to stop by. A summer job opportunity has come to my attention that I think would be perfect for you."

He handed Adam the paper. Adam unfolded it and read it. "A caretaker?" He looked at the paper again. "I know this place."

The property that people called the Barns was a large farm about twenty minutes outside of Henrietta. Adam had driven by it a few times while towing cars for his job at Boyd's auto repair shop. Only a few of the larger barns peeked over the dense woods surrounding the property.

Adam tapped the paper against his palm. He'd heard talk about the place. A murder happened there back in the 70s - or maybe the 80s. He didn't pay much attention to the gossip. "Isn't this the place that the locals think is haunted?"

Mr. Gray loosened the button on his dark gray blazer, leaned his hip against the desk, and crossed his arms over his chest. "That's the one. Is that a problem?"

"Might not be if the pay is right."

"I talked to the owner. He's offering a thousand dollars a week."

Adam felt lightheaded at that amount. All three of Adam's jobs didn't add up to a thousand dollars a week. In fact, all his jobs added up and doubled didn't add up to that much. He tried to do some calculations quickly in his head. "But my student loans. If my income is above –"

"Talk to the owner. All his info is there. He seems like a reasonable man. He might be willing to work with you. I already gave you a glowing reference."

"Sure. Okay. This would be a great – "

"And you have to live on the property full-time."

That made Adam's heart feel like it had stopped. He hadn't thought there would be any way to avoid having to endure the next few months living with his parents without them knowing that he was leaving at the end of August for Harvard. They hated that he went to a snooty high school, if they knew he was attending Harvard, he might not survive his father's reaction. 

"Adam, if this doesn't work out, you can stay with me for the summer. And, if that makes you uncomfortable, you can stay at my girlfriend's house. Trust me, she has so many people living there, one more person would go unnoticed."

Mr. Gray had never asked about Adam's home life, and Adam had never told him. Still, he'd seen the flash of anger in his teacher's eyes when they passed over the bruises Adam wouldn’t hide.

"Thanks," Adam said. He wasn't sure what else to say. The offer had been so unexpected. "I'll – I'll think about it. But let's hope this works out." He reached down for his bag. "I have to go. I'll call him tomorrow. How'd you find out about this job anyway?"

"Maura, my girlfriend. She - well, she finds out about a lot of things that go on around here."

~ ~ ~

The Barns weren't exactly what Adam had expected. He'd imagined it gothic and decrepit with a Scooby-Doo haunted mansion vibe. It was decrepit, but the vibe was more of a 'quaint in a daisies and dandelions growing through the cracks way.'

Declan Lynch wasn't exactly what Adam had expected either. Again, with the absurd Scooby-Doo theme that had invaded his brain, he'd expected the owner of a haunted farm abandoned for decades to be a lot older, balder, and creepier. First, Declan Lynch wasn't that old. Adam guessed around fifty. Second, as Adam sat in the kitchen inside the charming farmhouse that was the heart of the Barns, 'creepy' certainly wasn't a word he would use to describe the attractive man, with a full head of dark, curly hair, sitting across from him.

"So, Harvard," Declan said. "Where else did you get in?"

"Penn."

Declan nodded. "Impressive." He flipped over Adam's resume. "Your major?"

“Physiology.”

“Pre-med, then.”

"Yes, sir."

"I spoke to your teacher Mr. Gray and Headmaster Child. Mr. Gray said you're intelligent and incredibly responsible for your age. Child said that you were the best scholarship student in your class."

"I was the best student in the class. Period," Adam replied, hoping he sounded confident and not bitter.

"Right," Declan said, nodding again. "I spoke to your friend too."

"My _friend_?"

"Gansey."

Hiding his surprise, Adam kept his face impassive and said, "Oh, Gansey. Of course. How do you know him?"

"I've done some work with his mother – the Senator – in D.C. When I heard that you went to Aglionby, I reached out to her assistant, and she put me in touch."

This was the way the world works. It wasn't all about money and education from the right schools. Connections and networks were just as important. Declan Lynch had them, and Adam now had an in with Declan Lynch. This job was proving to be even more lucrative.

"He couldn't stop singing your praises," Declan said. "Tell me, Adam, what do you do in your spare time?"

"I don't have any spare time, Mr. Lynch. I study, and, as you can see by my resume, I work."

"I see. Three jobs," Declan said without looking at the resume. "You're graduating tomorrow, right?" Adam nodded. "And, though this job will keep you busy enough, it's not three jobs. While you're living here, what will you do with your downtime?"

Adam understood now. Declan wanted to make sure that Adam wasn't going to be throwing parties or doing anything else inappropriate on the property. "I've enrolled in two courses in the summer session to get a head start on my intro courses. They'll keep me busy in my downtime." Declan appeared to be looking for more. Adam smiled and added, "And there are a ton of Netflix series that I have to catch up on." Adam had neither a subscription to Netflix or any idea what series they had that he'd want to watch, but he'd heard enough chatter about it at school to know that it'd make him sound normal.

"You're ambitious," Declan said.

It wasn't a question, but Adam answered it anyway. "Yes. I am."

"One last thing, you'll have to sign an NDA. Anything that you might find here on the property that's unusual or could feed into the local legends must not be given or shared with anyone."

"Unusual?"

"My father was, you could say, an inventor of sorts. I took great care in removing his inventions after we vacated the property, but, well, you know how it is - things have a way of falling in between the cracks."

"No problem. I'll sign the NDA. What about the contractors and the estate people – should I have them sign one too?"

"No," Declan replied, sounding like he'd already thought about it. "That'll make people look for something. Just… just, if anything strange occurs, try to handle it. If you can't – and don't worry if you can't, that’s a lot to ask – then let me know. Understand?"

"Yes, sir. Of course."

"Well, then, you've read over the job responsibilities, so you know what you're getting yourself into. If you don't have any issues, when can you –"

"We have a few things to work out regarding my salary." Declan listened to Adam's requirements: reduce the salary by two hundred dollars and add that money to the expense account provided for food and other expenses incurred. This would keep Adam's income low enough that it wouldn't risk him losing his grants and loans.

Declan looked impressed. "You have it all worked out. Your request is reasonable. Do you have any other issues or questions for me?"

"I don't have a car."

"I wondered. I noticed that you came here in your employer's tow truck. I can get you a pick-up truck. You'll need it to haul things anyway." Declan seemed to think of something. "How good of a mechanic are you?"

"I'm decent. I could pass the ASE."

"There's a car in the big gray barn. It hasn't run in years. If you can get it running, in your spare time and with your own money, it's yours. Consider it a bonus."

"Thanks. That's extremely generous of you."

"You'll be doing me a favor and taking it off my hands." Declan pushed back from the table and started to stand. "If there's nothing else, then –"

"I'll need a phone and a laptop to manage the contractors and estate movers."

"You don't have your – never mind. I'll provide both for you to be returned at the end of the summer. Anything else?"

"Why are you so easy to negotiate with and why are paying so much for this job? What's the catch?"

Declan settled back in the chair. The old chair looked solid, but it creaked under the shift in weight again. The kitchen in the farmhouse was a hipster's wet dream, filled with mason jars, real handmade solid wood furniture, mid-century appliances, and the refrigerator looked like it was from the '50s.

Declan noticed him looking at the fridge. "That thing was ancient by the time I was a kid. It still works, though. Don't make them like that anymore.

"Yeah. Anyway. You've heard of the local legends about this place. It's hard to find someone I think I can trust not to exploit that and spread around information that this place is haunted."

Adam wasn't entirely convinced that was the only reason. "Is it?"

"What? Is it haunted?" Declan laughed, trying to appear casual, but Adam had noticed the shift in him. Declan appeared a little less in control. "I don't believe in ghosts."

There felt like there was a 'but' hanging in the air. Adam took a chance. "But…?"

Declan looked at the table. After a few seconds, he smirked. " _But_ , if I did, and there was anyone who would come back from the dead to be a royal pain in my ass, it would be my little brother."

~ ~ ~

Adam's father's voice boomed through the double-wide trailer. "Whose fucking truck is that?"

Adam finished folding his valedictorian stole and placed it in his suitcase. He smoothed the wrinkles out of the satin before closing the lid. He gripped the handle and pulled the suitcase off the bed. After taking one a long deep breath, he stepped out of his tiny bedroom and came face-to-face with his father.

His father looked at the suitcase in Adam's hand and sneered. "Where do you think you're going, boy?"

"You don't have to worry about taking care of me anymore, _Dad_. I'm leaving."

"Like hell you are. You're going to get a job with that fancy-ass degree you've got and pay me back for all the money that I wasted on you."

"Thank you, Dad, for the _almost_ basic level of care you've given me."

Behind his father, his mother, still in her nightgown, snapped, "Don't talk to your father like that!"

Adam stepped to the side. "But I am leaving today."

His father had him pressed up against the fake wood paneling before Adam had finished his sentence. 

Adam didn't flinch. He had written this script in his head for weeks now. His father's actions were predictable after all these years.

He looked his father in the eye and said, "This time, you're going to have to do more than just knock the hearing out of my ear, _Dad_. You're going to have to kill me. Because, if you don't, this time, I'm going to have you arrested."

The wall next to Adam's good ear cracked under his father's fist. "Where did you get that truck?"

"Let him leave, Robert," Adam's mother said. "He ain't nothing but trouble. It'll get worse now that he's got that snooty degree. Won't get him any better job than you've got, though."

His father spat his words in Adam's face. His breath smelled foul and faintly like beer and onions. "Not until he tells me where he got that fancy, expensive truck."

Adam smirked and lied to his father one last time. "It's my boyfriend's."

Robert Parrish let go of Adam like he was on fire. Taking advantage of his father's shock, Adam pushed passed him. He met his mother's eyes. Her mouth twisted in disgust, and she looked away. Without missing a step, Adam headed out the door and into the sleek, new black truck Declan Lynch had provided him.

It wasn't until he put his hands on the steering wheel that he realized they were shaking.

Yesterday, Adam had graduated from Aglionby with a degree and a first-class ticket to future success, and he'd quit all three of his back-breaking, shitty jobs: the auto shop, the warehouse, and the factory.

Today, Adam severed the relationship with his abusive parents, and drove away from the confining, suffocating life inside of a trailer towards the wide, open spaces of the Barns, with everything he owned contained in one small suitcase sitting in the bed of the truck.

The truck had a new car smell and a sunroof. He didn't own it, but it made him feel proud that he'd earned the access to it. He opened the roof and all the windows and let the warm June air swirl around him. He drove like that all the way to the Barns, where he found Declan waiting for him on the porch to work out the final details.

Declan handed him a ring with a dozen or so keys of various sizes. "I'd like to tell you that they're all marked."

Adam took it and slipped the ring on his wrist like a bracelet.

"Water and electricity are turned on," Declan continued. "I've emailed you details for the money accounts. One is for expenses related to the property. The other is your personal expenses. I didn't come up with a system for you to submit receipts and invoices."

"No problem. I'll come up with something."

"No need to submit for your personal expense account. That's for whatever essentials you need. There are debit cards for both accounts on the table, along with a phone and laptop."

They both turned toward the sound of a car coming down the driveway. A cable provider truck appeared. Adam said, "They said it'll take a week or so to get the cables laid to get the internet and the landline up and running. I figured it was best to get them started right away."

"Good thinking. When do your courses start?"

"Not until the 20th."

"Well, I'll…" Declan pointed randomly over his shoulder. "If you need anything, don't hesitate to reach out. I'll be in and out of Henrietta over the summer, so I can swing by."

"Business in the area?"

"No, my son's attending Aglionby in the fall. I'll be moving him and his mother downtown, after I find a suitable place." He saw Adam's eyes roam over his left hand and empty ring finger. "Divorced. My son has some issues that need attentive and careful parenting. We've stayed friendly for him."

"Why not just live here?"

Without hesitation, Declan replied, "Too big for us, and my ex isn't exactly the farm type. Well…" He pointed again randomly. "You know –" Behind Adam, the door to the farmhouse slammed shut. They both jumped and looked at it.

Adam shrugged. "The wind."

"Yeah. The wind," Declan said. He shrugged too and walked off the porch. "Well, time's money. I'll be seeing you, Parrish."

Three things happened at the exact same time: Declan started to back-up his dark blue Infiniti QX60; two guys got out of the cable truck, and one called out, "You Adam Parrish?"; and the kitchen window of the house shattered, sending glass flying onto the porch.

Declan drove away, unaware. Both men said, "Whoa!" The taller of the two walked forward. "Tire must've kicked up a rock."

"Yeah," Adam said, knowing that wasn't what had happened. The glass to the window fell outwards, if a rock from the driveway had shattered it, the glass would have fallen inward. Adam walked off the porch towards the technicians. He'd deal with the window later. Right now, he had a job to do.

~ ~ ~

Adam held the debit card in one hand and the new iPhone in the other. He'd never had access to money that was simply there for his needs. He felt powerful. He felt successful. He felt hungry.

He picked up the phone and did something that he'd always wanted to do – he ordered a pizza.

It took a while for the delivery guy to show up with a large pepperoni pizza and a two-liter bottle of Dr. Pepper. Adam met the delivery guy at the end of the driveway. On the way back, the truck filled with the smell of pizza, making Adam's stomach growl.

The pizza was greasy and only warm, and he didn't have any ice for the soda, but it was the best meal he'd ever had. He sat at the table eating and, using the new MacBook that Declan had left for him, created a system for organizing and tracking invoices. He also developed a template for an online project plan that Declan could follow for updates and started to populate it with key milestones.

There was still so much to do. He wanted to dive right into everything, but first, he had to settle into one of the bedrooms. He'd only been to the second floor once when Declan showed him around briefly the day of his interview. Declan had told Adam to pick whatever room he would feel most comfortable, which, after one look, Adam knew that it would be the master bedroom. It was almost as big as the entire trailer he'd grown up in and had everything he needed, except for a kitchen. In front of the large bay window was an antique Victorian solid oak rolltop desk with a swivel chair. It would be the perfect spot for him to sit and do work. He could live here all summer while he oversaw the rest of the house being emptied, cleaned, repaired, and upgraded.

He took his clothes out of his suitcase, left the things he wouldn't need in there, and slid it under the bed. He put the clothes away in a large vintage armoire that smelled musty and faintly of mothballs. He grabbed the new phone, opened a blank email, and typed in 'baking soda.' Walking around the room and assessing it made the list grow longer: sheets, a blanket, a pillow, towels, shampoo, toothpaste, and toilet paper. He definitely needed to stock up on supplies now.

He walked around the bathroom and kitchen, adding to the list. He searched for a washer and dryer, finding an avocado green matching pair in an alcove between the mudroom and the kitchen. The dryer didn't have a duct, and the hose connecting the washer to the water supply was rotted. He'd worry about washing his clothes later.

There was a 24/7 Walmart about forty minutes away. Adam drove there and got what he needed quickly. At the check-out, he swiped the card that Declan had given him and tensed up, waiting for the transaction to go through. Seeing _'Approved'_ pop up on the screen felt like hitting the lottery.

Driving back from Walmart, with the bed of the pickup truck full of things for his comfort, doubts that this was too good to be true crept into his mind. The negative thoughts became easier to ignore as he put the food away. This was real, he told himself. It only felt strange because his life had changed so quickly. The morning of his interview for the job, he'd eaten a small bag of stale chips for breakfast. Now, he could have eggs and bacon or milk and cereal. The store-brand, of course. He wasn't going crazy or anything.

He cleaned up the master bathroom and took the longest, hottest shower he'd ever taken while thinking about that big bed, with its ornate Victorian headboard and fresh, clean sheets, waiting for him in the other room. He'd never slept in a bedroom like this before, and it was all his for the next twelve weeks. Like the truck, he knew it wasn't really his, but he could enjoy it because he'd gained the right to it with hard work and intelligence.

When Adam slipped into bed, it was everything that he thought it would be. The new pillows he'd bought, though the next to the cheapest ones, were still comfortable and firm and so different from the single flat pillow his mother had allowed him to use at home. _Home_. The trailer. It wasn't home anymore. Of course, this wasn't his home either. It was only temporary shelter until he got to Harvard, but it was good enough. He fell asleep happy, imagining what his life would be like now, free from fear, free to be who he wanted to be, free to come and go as he pleased.

A clap of thunder woke Adam in the morning. The clock on his phone showed that he'd slept almost ten hours. He'd hadn't slept more than four hours straight in years.

The room felt colder than it should have, and, as Adam's sleep grogginess wore off, he realized one of the three windows was open. He was sure that he hadn't opened it the night before. He got out of bed, closed the window, and locked it. He inspected it. It was an old wooden window, and he thought maybe there was some termite damage, but nothing appeared out of the ordinary. The only logical possibility was that the unlocked window was open a crack, and the wind and the storm caused it to open further.

It wasn't an outrageous hypothesis, and Adam quickly forgot about it as he shifted his focus to the plans for the day. The rain was a problem. The cable guys wouldn't show up, and neither would the company he'd called to come out and fix the broken kitchen window. The rain hadn't ruined Adam's plan for the day. He could still explore the house and perform an inventory on each room. He started right after breakfast, beginning upstairs. He carried a notebook from room to room, cataloged every piece of furniture, lifted the sheets and inspected the items for any damages, and, if he found any, made notes of it. He checked under every piece of furniture and in every drawer and closet for any belongings, finding only minor things here and there - a bobby pin, a stapler, pens from hotel rooms – things like that.

In the bedroom farthest down the hall, a floorboard appeared loose around the bed. He moved the bed out of the way and pried the floorboard up to find a small stash of things: a pack of Marlboros with three cigarettes left inside; a lighter; a half-smoked joint; a black pin with a red anarchy symbol; three used patches, with string dangling from where they'd been sewn on something once; and a black and white photo of two teenagers, with neck tattoos and mohawks, kissing. He laid the patches out side by side. One said, _'The Clash_.' The other two had 'Misfits' across the top. One with four skulls across the bottom, and the other had a woman with a skeleton head and _'die die my darling'_ embroidered next to it.

It felt wrong to throw these things out. These weren't random things. They had meant something to someone and that someone had placed them in this hiding spot with affection and purpose.

Adam placed everything back in the nook in the floor and went in search of a hammer to nail the floorboard down.

But even after he had carefully secured the items, he couldn't get them out of his mind. While he cataloged the rooms downstairs, his thoughts drifted to the photo or, more specifically, the unknown owner of it. He didn't know if the person, who had hid the picture, was one of the young men in it or if it had only been a photo for a teenager to fantasize with. But either way, it made Adam's work here feel different, more personal, and, now, he looked at the entire house differently.

There were only a few large rooms downstairs, and the furniture was sparse. One room – he now thought of as the music room - only had a piano. The living room had the most furniture and a fireplace. The dining room table had a few deep scratches on the top, and Adam found an old wad of gum stuck to its bottom. He started to wonder about the family who'd lived here at the time of the murder. Or had it been murders, plural? Declan had mentioned a brother. Had he been killed here? He wished he had paid more attention to the local talk about what had happened here.

He didn't inventory the kitchen, but he did heat up chicken soup for lunch. As he stood at the stove, between stirs, he tried to google some information about the incident that spurred the rumors about the Barns. He couldn't search anything. His phone kept flickering between one bar to 'no service.' He ate the soup at the table listening to the wind and the rain beating against the piece of wood that he'd nailed into the outside wall as a temporary fix for the broken window.

The contrast of the severe sounds of the storm outside and the thick silence of the house inside created a strong feeling of isolation, intensified by the knowledge that he had no way of contacting anyone. He laughed to himself, thinking that this really did seem like the perfect setting for a horror movie. It was a ridiculous thought. Still, after lunch, when Adam stood at the top of the basement stairs and looked down into the darkness, he decided that he would tackle the basement on a more cheerful day.

That left the attic. Adam decided to leave that as well and instead focus on getting the inventory into a spreadsheet, so he could start planning a schedule for the estate movers. Still hungry, he made himself a sandwich, poured himself a glass of milk, and headed up to the bedroom.

The first thing that Adam noticed when he entered the room was his suitcase opened and empty by the side of the bed. Briefly, he thought that he'd opened it and forgot, then his brain processed the rest of the room. All three windows were open, and rain poured inside. The armoire doors were also open, and his clothes were thrown around the room.

Every possible situation that led to this went through Adam's mind.

His father had found him and was messing with him. No. Robert Parrish wasn't this subtle.

Declan Lynch had really hired him as an unsuspecting participant in a reality show. No. That was highly unlikely. Adam had thoroughly read through the document he signed. Nothing in the document would protect Declan from legal repercussions if Adam was filmed without his knowledge.

Adam had entered a fugue state and did this himself. That was a possibility, but he hadn't felt like he'd lost track of time. He hadn't "woken up" somewhere without knowing how he got there.

And lastly, the one thing that Adam didn't want to believe but it made the most sense. He came to the inconceivable assumption that the Barns was, in fact, very, very haunted.

At the moment of his conclusion, the suitcase raised off the ground and hovered in mid-air for a few seconds before it flew out the window.

Adam's instincts kicked in. His brain shouted, _'Run. Get out!'_ He ran down the steps, grabbed the keys to the truck, and headed out the door. He started the car and put it in reverse.

He had no place to go.

He slammed the shift back to park.

He could take Mr. Gray up on his offer. That still left him jobless. Boyd might take him back, but the factory and the warehouse wouldn't.

Adam had never run from anything in his life. He'd attended Aglionby even though he knew it would bring his father's wrath down upon him. He'd walked among the elite boys of Aglionby wearing a second-hand uniform and a backpack from Goodwill. He'd listened to the sniggers of his schoolmates every time he'd answered a question in his thick, poor-white-trash Virginia accent, yet he never stopped raising his hand.

Adam had never run from anything in his life. And he wasn't going to run away from this.

He sat in the truck and processed it all. Ghosts were real. A spirit was currently inhabiting the Barns. A ghost that seemed to be nothing more than a bully.

He knew how to handle bullies.

When his heart rate slowed, he got out and walked around the side of the house to retrieve his suitcase.

Back in the house, he walked straight to the bedroom. Calmly, he closed the window, fetched towels from the bathroom, and laid them on the floor to mop up the rain. Humming softly, he walked around the room picking up his clothes, folded them into a neat pile, and put the pile back into the armoire. He panicked slightly when he couldn’t find his diploma, valedictorian sash, and honor cords, but he eventually found them under the bed. They went back into the suitcase, which he shoved back under the bed before heading downstairs to wash and dry the towels.

When he came back upstairs, he found the room in shambles again, forcing Adam to entirely accept the fact that ghosts were real, and one was currently being a real pain in his ass. He cleaned it up again with the same casual coolness, even if he was boiling inside with frustration.

He needed this job. He'd clean up this room a hundred times a day if it meant keeping it. This ghost would not beat him.


	2. Chapter 2

The rain had stopped by the next morning and so had the ghost's attack on Adam's bedroom. The ghost had become braver and thrown all of Adam's clothes out of the armoire while Adam laid in bed and watched. After the last t-shirt hit the floor, Adam had simply said, "Are you done?" got up, cleaned up the mess, and went back to bed. Everything remained quiet after that.

Adam waited for the window repair company to finish before he headed into downtown Henrietta and straight to the local library that offered free WiFi. It only took a few minutes to pull up local newspaper articles from the 1980s that reported on the events that occurred at the Barns.

**March 10, 1985**

_Local inventor Niall Lynch, 42, was found murdered yesterday at his home in Singer's Falls. The body was discovered by his middle son Ronan, a student at Aglionby Academy. His wife, Aurora Lynch, was at home at the time of the incident and was unharmed. His other sons, Declan and Matthew, were participating in after-school activities when their father's body was found in the driveway of the property known as the Barns. Virginia state police are investigating the crime._

**November 2, 1987**

_Ronan Lynch, 19, son of the late Niall and Aurora Lynch, who was once a suspect in his father's unsolved murder, has gone missing. Lynch was last seen five days ago driving erratically down highway 81 in a dark gray late 70s BMW model M1. His car was found parked at his residence in Singer's Falls. Lynch, a high school dropout, has been arrested several times for various misdemeanors, including drag racing and public intoxication. Police and local volunteers are helping his family search the property and nearby area for him. If you have information on his whereabouts, please contact your local police office._

**October 27, 1989**

_The body of missing Singer's Falls man Ronan Lynch was found yesterday in the living room of his prior residence, known as the Barns. Thomas Miller, one of the property's caretakers, found the body in one of the bedrooms. Though Lynch has been missing for almost two years, Miller told local news that the body was not decomposed in any way. The remains have been transported to the local ME's office for an autopsy._

**November 3, 1989**

_According to Bingham County Sheriff Craig Rowland, the death of Ronan Lynch, whose body was found in his Singer's Falls home, has been ruled a suicide. An autopsy was performed by the local coroner, and, based on those findings, the case was officially ruled as a suicide by investigators._

Adam searched further, trying to find out how and when Aurora Lynch had died, but found nothing, not even an obituary. All the other hits in his search about the Barns and the Lynches came from less credible sources. He found someone who claimed to be a Henrietta local discussing the Barns on a forum for hauntings. User Init2winit claimed that Ronan Lynch had shown signs of mental illness from a young age, so his parents had kept him hidden away in the basement, until one day he broke free and killed them all.

Adam opened the tab on the newspaper article that reported Ronan Lynch had gone missing and looked at a photo that accompanied the article. The caption below it read _'1986_.' The young man in the photo had a mohawk and a silver knife dangling from a piercing in his left ear, but other than his evident rebel streak, he didn't look like he'd been kept in a basement.

Looking at the other photos in the articles, Adam saw the strong family resemblance between Niall, Declan, and Ronan, all dark hair and pale skin. But two of them were dead. Adam wondered what happened to the other brother Matthew. A search on Facebook revealed that he was still very much alive and living in Richmond with his wife. That meant that three out of the five people, who last lived in the house, had died. At least two of them on the property, leaving Ronan or Niall Lynch as likely ghost candidates.

He had more questions, but first, he uploaded his spreadsheets and his finished project plan to Google and emailed Declan the links to track it online. He told Declan that he'd send him weekly progress updates too.

Henrietta's librarian, Mrs. Hill, had worked at the library for as long as Adam could remember. Before Aglionby, she had served as Adam's book dealer, feeding him piles of books to help satisfy his burning need to learn.

Smiling, Adam approached her at the front desk. She smiled back, fondly. "Need some more help, dear?" she asked.

"Yes. I'm looking for information on local legends. Ghost stories – stuff like that."

"There's some mentions of things like that buried in articles. They're hard to search for. But you're in luck today! I know someone who could tell you himself." She pointed to a corner table. "You might know him. He was in your class, I believe."

"Yeah," Adam said, nodding. "I know him. Thanks, Mrs. Hill."

Adam approached the young man hunched over the desk and writing feverishly in a notebook. "Hi, Gansey."

Gansey looked up in surprise. "Oh, Adam, hey. Hey. Good to see you."

"I wanted to say thanks for giving me a reference to Declan Lynch. I appreciate it."

"No worries. I didn't lie about anything. Just told him the truth. Did you get the job?"

"Yeah. I did. Started a few days ago. So, thanks again. I owe you one." Adam glanced at one of the books on the table. The cover read, _'Henrietta Town Council Meetings 1892-1896.'_ He picked it up and flicked through the pages. "Light summer reading?"

Gansey chuckled. "It's my summer project."

"Town council meetings?"

"History of Henrietta."

Adam knew that Gansey was a history buff but found it shocking that he'd find Henrietta interesting enough to spend his summer researching it.

"Do you have a minute?" Adam asked.

Gansey pointed at the empty seat across from him. He closed the thick and worn brown leather notebook and put his folded hands on top of it. "If you don't mind me asking, what is the job anyway? Declan didn't really say."

"Caretaker for the property."

"The Barns? Really?"

"Yeah. Declan's preparing it for sale. I'm overseeing the repairs and necessary upgrades to make it more marketable."

Gansey scratched his chin. A very light stubble had grown on it since Adam last saw him. "Have you heard the stories about the Barns?"

"I've heard rumors, but never really paid them much attention. Actually, I was here looking up the old newspaper articles on the murder and the suicide."

"Why? Have you seen anything strange?"

"No," Adam lied easily. It was second nature for him to hide things. "Just curious since I'll be living there."

Gansey's face lit up. "There are so many legends surrounding the Barns and the Lynches." He looked at the expensive platinum Breitling on his wrist. Absent-mindedly, Adam rubbed at the old brown watch he'd bought at a yard sale and imagined what a watch like Gansey's would look like on him. "Hey, it's lunchtime. How about we grab some lunch, and I can fill you in on some of them?"

"I can't…" It was a habit for Adam to decline an invitation that required spending money.

Gansey's expression shifted to the same way he'd looked at Adam on the last day of school. Gansey looked lonely.

Gansey nodded, "I understand. If you're back in town –"

"Do you want to come to the Barns for lunch? I could show you around."

"Are you certain that won't be a problem?"

"No." Adam owed Gansey something. This would make them even. "If Declan trusted you enough to give me a reference, I'm sure he wouldn't mind."

Gansey cleaned up the table and checked out several books. They reached his car first, an orange 1973 Camaro that Gansey loved dearly. The first time Adam had found Gansey stranded in the parking lot, he'd looked under the hood and told him that he should put the car out of its misery. But Gansey had put his hand lovingly on the door and said, "Plenty of life left in the Pig."

Gansey threw his books in the back seat. "I'll grab us lunch. Burger and fries, okay?"

"You don't have to –"

"You're hosting," Gansey said. "It's only polite that I bring lunch. Cheese on the burger?"

"Yeah, please."

"Got it. Anything to drink."

"Don't bother. I have drinks at the Barns."

"Great." The door of the Pig opened with a grinding creak. Gansey slid inside. "I'll see you there, Adam."

Back at the Barns, Adam found the cable technicians packing up the van. "Ran cable into the house today. Ground's still too muddy to lay the lines. If there's no more rain, it'll be a few more days before we can start digging."

Adam nodded and asked, "You don't happen to have a cell service booster in the truck, do you? Cell service sucks in there, man. I'm going crazy."

A second technician emerged from the back of his hand, holding a box. "Got one right here. It'll take ten minutes or so to install."

"Thanks a lot," Adam said. He figured that Declan wouldn't mind the upgrade to attract potential buyers.

A quick check through the house showed no signs of the ghost or its wreckage. Adam wasn't so egotistical that he believed he'd outwitted a ghost who'd been haunting the house for decades. Part of him, maybe, wanted Gansey to experience some of the haunting. He couldn't tell him because of the NDA, but if he experienced it for himself, they could talk about it.

Gansey showed up with three bags filled with four cheeseburgers, two bacon cheeseburgers, Cajun-spiced waffle fries, string fries, and onion rings. If Gansey didn't look so eager to please, Adam would've thought he was simply showing off.

It felt odd to be the center of Gansey's attention. At school, everyone wanted a piece of Gansey. He was the leader that everyone looked to. Everyone wanted to be his best friend. Today, he was sitting across from Adam, chewing on a waffle fry, and offering Adam a bacon cheeseburger.

Adam unwrapped the burger and took a bite. Gansey asked, "So, what did your search uncover?"

"The basics. Niall Lynch's murder. Ronan Lynch's suicide."

"Nothing about the legends?"

Adam shook his head. Gansey's face broke out in excitement. "Before I start, you have to understand Niall Lynch's murder happened during a moral panic."

Adam crumbled up the napkin he'd just wiped his mouth with and threw it on the table. "Moral panic?"

"More specifically, a satanic panic. It was a modern-day witch hunt. Do some reading on it. It's interesting sociological stuff. Basically, people believed that there was an underground satanic cult that performed sacrificial rituals – animal and human sacrifices – and that this cult sexually molested children."

"Like the pizzagate conspiracy?"

"Yeah, similar." Gansey held up his glass. "Do you have any more soda?"

"Sure." Adam grabbed the bottle from the fridge. "So, people thought they were Satan worshippers?"

"Yeah. It was a modern-day witch-hunt. Some people went to jail with little or no evidence. Google the West Memphis Three. Oh, and McMartin Preschool too. People convicted with flimsy evidence, forced confessions… really awful stuff."

Adam started cleaning up. "But what does this have to do with Niall Lynch?"

"More with Ronan." Gansey stood to help, but Adam waved him down. "Ronan was different. He was exactly what people pictured when they thought of a Satan worshipper."

"I saw a photo of him in a news article. He didn't look particularly scary. He looked goth."

"Punk, actually," Gansey corrected.

"What's the difference?"

"Attitude. Punk is more of a 'give the middle finger and tell you to fuck off' attitude. Goth is moodier, more frowns, and eye-rolls."

Adam raised an eyebrow and laughed.

"I googled it," Gansey replied. "And, by today's standards, Ronan wasn't that outrageous, but in the 80s, in a rural town, he was different and scary. He was angry by nature, wore things with skulls, and raced around town blasting music with lyrics about death and destruction. This was a time when people were terrified of harmless things like the game Dungeons and Dragons. So, Ronan Lynch looked like the kind of guy who'd kill your dog and rape your daughter."

"So, people started to think that Ronan killed his father."

"Bingo. Also, there was a lot of secrecy around what Niall Lynch actually did for a living. No one was ever really sure. After his death, Declan Lynch shut the Barns down tight, requiring that law enforcement have a warrant before they stepped one foot on the property further than the crime scene. Cops gossiped, and rumors spread that Ronan had killed his father in a satanic ritual. Some even believed that the entire family were Satan worshippers."

"How did Niall die anyway?" Adam asked, sitting down and picking at the fries he'd left on the table.

"Head bashed in with a tire iron. One fact that I know for sure is that Ronan had found his father. It was a tragedy made even more tragic with people's stupid fears and rumors."

"Not everyone believed that it was a satanic ritual, did they?"

"No. The teenagers, who'd partied and raced cars with Ronan, had two different theories. One was that Niall was an Irish mobster and was killed in a mob hit. The other was that Niall was ex-IRA and killed for turning in a fellow IRA member."

"Did they have any proof of that?"

"Of course not. Nothing but speculation."

"And who do you think killed Niall Lynch?"

"Certainly not Ronan." He shrugged. "The most obvious choice is usually the answer. Niall Lynch was involved with some shady people – it could've been gambling, drugs, or maybe even the mob – he did something to piss them off, and they killed him."

Adam finished the last onion ring and asked Gansey if he wanted to check out the car that Declan had told him about. Gansey replied with an enthusiastic 'yes.'

The large gray barn was deep into the property. They walked and talked about the legends and peered into sheds and barns along the way. Most were empty or filled with only some left behind garden and farming tools. Adam didn't bother with the locked ones.

Gansey told him more about the gossip and legends surrounding the murder. Some were more outrageous than others. People had speculated that there was a fourth brother- Ronan's twin- who, when he'd started to show psychopathy at a young age, was locked in the basement and kept prisoner there. He'd broken free and killed Niall Lynch, then fled.

"Ridiculous story," Gansey said as he peered into an abandoned chicken coop. "Over the decades, as the satanic panic died down, the stories about this place became more generalized. The urban legend types. You know Bloody Mary, the Hook Man, the Slender Man, those sorts of stories. Kids playing out in the forest started making up stories of pirates' treasure buried here. There's one about a Confederate soldier burying the family jewels here to keep them from the Union army. Those went from make-believe children games to urban legends."

"What about the hauntings?" Adam asked. "And Ronan Lynch's body just showing up here after he was missing for a few years? And what happened to Aurora Lynch? Do you people think Ronan killed her?"

Behind him, Adam heard a low dangerous growl. He spun around, but nothing was there.

Gansey looked too. "Did you hear something?"

"I thought I heard a dog. Must've been a bird."

"Oh, okay," Gansey said, sounding disappointed. "The legends that the house was haunted actually go back further than the Lynches. I found a letter from a woman who'd lived here during WWII. She claimed that her daughter had told her about a young man who would talk to her sometimes. The little girl said he was a soldier like her daddy and that he liked the horses. The woman said that there was only one man on the property, and that was her father, who was an old man.

A few people that I talked to, who were around before the Lynches bought the property in the late 60s, told me that the family who lived there before them had a similar story. This time it was the youngest son who saw this man. The little boy said that the young man liked to play catch with him and that the ghost had asked him to teach him about baseball."

They reached the gray barn. Adam inspected the keys for the most probable one that would open the padlock and probed Gansey further.

"Do you think the ghost had anything to do with Niall's murders? I mean, it doesn't sound like it. He sounds harmless."

"I agree," Gansey said. "If there was a ghost, it's a different story."

"So, what about Aurora Lynch?"

Gansey talked while Adam tried to find the right key. "There were rumors that he'd killed her too. I'm a hundred percent certain that he didn't kill his father, and I'm even more certain that he didn't kill his mother. As cool and badass as Ronan Lynch liked to act, he still went to church every Sunday with his family. They belonged to St. Agnes Parish. Everyone who knew him from there said that he was never anything but loving and kind to his mother and his younger brother."

The padlock opened on the sixth try. Adam pulled back the sliding door and stepped inside. The door opened on the shady side of the building, and the windows had boards nailed across them, making it hard to see.

Gansey looked around. "I doubt we're lucky enough that there's a crowbar in here."

"Doubt it," Adam said. "I can see enough. Help me pull the cover off the car."

They started from the hood and yanked the cover back to the trunk.

Gansey whistled. "That's –"

"Ronan Lynch's car. A BMW M1."

"Did you –"

"I had no idea."

"Do you know that it's wor –"

"Three-quarters of a million dollars." Adam ran his fingers along the roof. "Did Declan Lynch lose his mind?"

Gansey opened the driver's side door and looked inside. "The keys are on the seat."

"Pop the trunk," Adam said. He used his camera to shine a light into the car, expecting a mess and getting exactly as he'd expected. Essential parts, like a carburetor, were missing. "I can't take this car."

"You said Declan wanted you to have it."

"He's insane."

"Maybe he doesn't know how much it's worth."

"It doesn't matter. I do. I'll talk to him. I can work on it. He can sell it, and I'll take a commission."

"It'll be fun to work on, though."

"Yeah." Adam grabbed the cover. "Let's cover it back up."

Back outside, Adam locked up the door. He tugged on the padlock to make sure it was locked and got Gansey back on the subject of the Lynches. "So, you were saying that Ronan adored his mother and brother."

"Yeah. And he never showed any signs of a mental illness. He was simply an asshole, moody teenager."

Next to the old chicken coop, they found a tool shed big enough to fit them both and poked around at the rusty tools, looking for a crowbar.

"After Niall died," Gansey continued, "Aurora seemed to have vanished. Declan took over as head of the family. Matthew returned to being a student. And Ronan carried on racing cars, getting into fights and blasting punk through the Bible-thumping streets of Henrietta, but he was a lot angrier and a lot drunker."

Gansey reached for a bucket resting on a shelf nailed to the wall, but missed reaching it by an inch or so. Adam reached up and grabbed it. He looked inside and showed Gansey that it was empty. Adam found a crowbar. He took that and a few screwdrivers.

They'd circled back to the farmhouse. Adam sat on the step of the back porch. Gansey put a foot on the bottom step and leaned against the railing and said, "The Lynches moved out of the Barns. Ronan and his younger brother Matthew lived at Aglionby dorms, and Declan bought a place in DC. That was the spring of '85. In the fall of '86, when Ronan turned 18, he inherited the house as the sole owner, dropped out of school, and moved back into the Barns. A year later, he disappeared into thin air, and then a body showed up almost two years later."

"You said 'a body.' Why?"

"This is going to sound strange. Ronan's body showed up out of nowhere, and they'd ruled it a suicide."

"Yeah, I read that."

"But… I talked to this guy who used to work for the morgue. He drove the van that transported bodies. He was only eighteen at the time. He said that there had been something strange about the body."

Adam leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. "Like strange, how?"

"He said he was at the morgue picking up a body and heard the medical examiner recording Ronan's autopsy. It'd been a while, so he didn't remember the exact words. He did remember that the ME had said he'd never seen anything like it. Ronan's body was missing body parts – he had a heart, lungs, stomach, but for example, he didn't have a pancreas or a spleen."

"Someone cut them out of him?"

"No! That's what was odd. The ME had said that there were no incision marks. It was like Ronan had been built without those parts."

"Come on, Gansey. That's crazy! Maybe the guy was lying."

"Of course, that was my first thought too. He gave me more information that really throws it in conspiracy theory territory. The official report that the ME filed had none of that in it. He ruled it an intentional drug overdose.

"And – and this is a big _and_ – the same day that the ME filed Ronan's death certificate he filed one for Aurora with the cause of death as a brain hemorrhage. I verified that it was true. A few days after that, he retired – with no warning – at 42! Sold his house and moved away from Henrietta. The guy I talked to said he'd heard that the ME and his wife went on a year-long trip around the world."

Adam thought about that for a minute. "You think Declan Lynch paid him off to keep the real results of the autopsy quiet, don't you?"

"Yes. Yes, I do."

Neither spoke for a while. The crickets had begun to chirp all around them. Gansey's phone buzzed a few times in his pocket. A mosquito bit Adam's ankle before he could kill it.

"Gansey, I can think of only one explanation. A theory that you haven't mentioned." He paused. Gansey stood there waiting, fiddling with the neck of his dark blue polo shirt. Adam pushed his sweaty bangs away from his forehead. "Aliens."

Gansey looked at him with a serious expression. Adam's own deadpan expression started to crack, and they both started laughing.

Throwing his hands in the air, Gansey said between laughs, "I-I won't lie. I've – I've considered it. I mean, what else could it be! But that's really far out there."

"It'd explain Aurora. Maybe she returned to her home planet."

Adam turned away at a sound behind him. It sounded like a mix of a chuckle and a snort.

"What? What did you hear?"

"I thought I heard buzzing like a wasp."

"Oh." Gansey's face turned white. "Um, just in case, I'm allergic to wasps. Seriously allergic. I died once and –"

"Jesus, Gansey. Really?"

"Yeah. So, um, there's an EpiPen in my glove compartment."

"Good to know," Adam replied. "I don't think there was actually a bug."

"Good. Excellent."

"Do you think it's Ronan who haunts the house or Niall?"

Gansey shrugged. "It's hard to say. There are no reliable sources. I do know that after Ronan went missing, but before his body had been found, a bunch of kids claimed that they'd come out here to drink and party, but were run off by a ghost."

"Interesting stuff. Weird, but interesting."

Gansey slapped at his arm. "It's getting late, I should go."

He held out his hand. Adam shook it.

As Gansey walked to the orange monstrosity he called a car, Adam called out, "Thanks for lunch."

Gansey opened the door and put one foot in before pulling it back out again. "Hey Adam, what do you know about ley lines?"

"I read about them once, I think. Alleged energy lines that run through the world, right?"

The top half of Gansey's body disappeared into the car. When he straightened up, he had a book in his hand. He walked towards Adam, who walked off the porch and met him halfway.

"I suspect a ley line runs through or around the Barns," Gansey said. He handed the book to Adam. "Read this."

"How do you even know ley lines really exist?"

"Because I died on one."

~ ~ ~

Adam flipped the switch to turn on the ceiling light. To his surprise, the bedroom looked exactly as he'd left it. He put the book, a glass of milk, and the sandwich he'd just made on the desk.

He'd left the windows open to let fresh air in, and the room had heated up considerably. Adam was accustomed to sleeping without an air conditioner. The thought of turning on the ceiling fan hadn't even crossed his mind before. He stood on the tips of his toes to grab the chain, but before he could, the light went off. He hadn't heard a pop, so he didn't think it was the bulb. He looked over at the switch and saw that it had been flicked back down.

Adam sighed. The ghost had returned.

The orange hues of the setting sun coming in through the windows gave him the light that he needed. Adam sat at the desk and ate while checking his emails on his phone. The cell booster worked great. Adam had full service. He could even use it as a hotspot until the internet was up and running.

Dusk turned into night, and Adam got up and turned the light back on. He discovered that the room hadn't been untouched when he found an empty armoire. He looked around. Everything else was in order. He looked under the bed. No clothes there, but his suitcase was gone too. He looked in the bathroom. Nothing. He felt dumb. Then he saw it. The open window. He stuck his head out and saw his clothes and suitcase scattered on the ground.

His anger flared hot and sharp inside of him. These were his things. Clothes that he'd paid for with his own money. A suitcase that he'd bought new. A graduation gift to himself. All treated like trash. He had nothing to unleash his anger towards, except air and a belief in life after death.

He ducked his head back inside. "You're not very subtle, but I guess you're not trying to be." He looked around the room. The ghost might not even be here. He talked louder now. "I know you want me to leave. It won't work. I've dealt with bigger bullies than you. I'm not leaving. I need this job more than you need me to leave."

He retrieved his clothes and put them away. He needed a shower. He started to take his shirt off but hesitated. He lowered his arms. "I'm going to take a shower now, ghost-person. I'm not sure if you're here, but if you don't mind, I'd like to do it alone."

A hot shower and the comfortable bed reminded Adam exactly why he was prepared to go to battle with a ghost. He slept through until the next morning, when the sun still hadn't completely risen. He had another half hour or so before his alarm went off, but he felt rested enough. It felt odd and comfortable to live like this: eat when he wanted to eat, sleep when he needed to rest.

 _'This isn't my life, though,'_ he thought. _'It's borrowed. Don't forget that.'_

Adam went over the schedule for the day in his head as he brushed his teeth. He jogged downstairs, looking forward to breakfast. He'd decided on French toast. Something he'd never had before, and it was cheap and easy to make.

The state of the kitchen he'd walked into slapped him in the face. The refrigerator door was open, and food was everywhere. Eggs and milk dripping from the table, chair, and the walls. The ceiling looked like a bottle of soda had been shaken and sprayed on it.

Adrenaline rushed through him. He snapped. The chair hit the fridge door and slammed it shut before Adam realized that he'd kicked it. He picked up the plastic milk container and threw it across the room. He grabbed the soda bottle and noticed how violently his hands shook. He dropped the soda bottle and gripped the back of a chair. He hung his head and counted to ten. Twice.

"I don't know who you are," he said in a loud voice but not quite shouting. "I don't know if you've ever been hungry, but I have. I've been hungry because my father was unemployed and couldn't afford food. I've been hungry because my father spent his paycheck on beer and betting on football games. 

"I've been hungry because my father thought I didn't deserve to eat his food.

"I've gone to bed hungry. I've gone to school hungry. I've gone to work hungry. I've worked shitty jobs with pulled muscles, feet covered in blisters, and bleeding cracked hands just to have a single halfway decent meal a few times a week. Two days after my father slammed my head into a railing and knocked me deaf, I went back to school and worked my three jobs."

Adam hadn't talked this much to anyone in his whole life, and he'd never said a word about his life to anyone, but this felt good. It was easy to rant at an invisible entity who could never tell anyone what he'd said, who couldn't talk back or look at him with pity or judgment.

The words flowed from his mouth. "I'm not telling you this to feel sorry for me. I don't want anyone's pity. I'm telling you this so that you know what you're up against. I want you to know how much I want this job and how hard I'll fight for it. My entire life has been a war – _this_ – your childish antics are only another battle."

Adam grabbed a roll of paper towels and a bucket from under the sink and started to clean.

~ ~ ~

The next few days were productive and quick and without any signs of a ghost. Adam kept things going and on schedule. Electricians came out to inspect the house, and they followed up in email with their quotes. The cable technicians had finished laying the cables and would be back soon to finish wiring the house. Estate movers cleaned out the bedrooms upstairs except for the master one. Adam did his own work, inventorying the basement and boxing up items that he thought Declan might want.

The last room to inventory was the attic. It surprised Adam how much had been left up there. Glancing inside a few boxes, Adam saw a lot of personal items. He opened every box and wrote a basic description of it, put a unique number next to it, and wrote the number on the box with a black sharpie. The items reflected the family's timeline, going from a wedding dress to children's toys to graduation caps.

Adam lost track of time looking through a box of books, and it reminded him of the book that Gansey had given him, sitting forgotten on the desk.

It had taken him a few hours to go through about half the boxes. He decided to wrap it up after going through a stack of three boxes. He slid them away from a giant plastic Santa. They were all filled with albums. He pulled some of them out to read the covers. The music ranged decades and genres, from the Beatles to the Bangles. He flipped over the cover of the Ramones _Road to Ruin_ and thought of the hidden items stashed away in the bedroom that, based on the information Gansey had given him, he assumed had been Ronan Lynch's.

Adam took several albums downstairs with him, hoping to play them on the vintage stereo console in the living room. The console had a turntable, two speakers, a place for storing albums, and a radio with big huge knobs that moved a red slider along the dial. After dinner, he learned, with the help of Youtube videos, how to use a turntable. To his surprise, the stereo worked and the music of Fleetwood Mac filled the room.

He didn't know much about music. His parents had liked country, and the other mechanics at Boyd's had always had a radio on. He hadn't developed his own taste in music, but he found that he liked having the background noise. 

He opened the windows and settled into a comfortable wingback chair with the book Gansey had given him. Written on the book's spine was the title, _Ley Lines: Earth's Sacred Grids._ Inside the book, between the plain deep red leather cover and the first page, he found a hand-drawn map of Heneritta and the surrounding area with green and blue lines running through it.

The information on ley lines seemed a little out there, and it relied on generic statements and anecdotal evidence. Adam found the notes that Gansey had written in the margins much more informative, revealing that Gansey had traveled around the world researching this unproven phenomenon. He wasn't sure what ley lines had to do with what happened at the Barns, but he wondered if the energy they supposedly held could be the reason that a ghost was able to exist here.

The B-52's _Wild Planet_ side 'A' ended. Adam yawned and rubbed at his tired eyes. It was a nice night with a cool breeze coming in through the open windows. He closed his eyes to enjoy it and drifted off to sleep. He dreamed about the almost million-dollar car sitting idle in the car. In his dream, he drove the vehicle along the mountains with the windows open and the wind blowing his hair wild.

Two people were sitting in the backseat talking. Adam didn't recognize the voice, and, though he wanted to turn around, he couldn't.

"Stop staring at him, you creep."

"The fuck - I'm not staring at him!"

"Doesn't look that way to me."

"I'm listening to the music."

Adam's senses started to transition from sleep to awake. He still heard the voices, and his brain alerted him that they weren't in his head but in the room with him.

"The music stopped a while ago."

"What's your deal, Czerny? Why are you breaking my balls?"

He opened his eyes. Two guys stood a few feet away, talking to each other. Neither acknowledged that he'd woken up.

The shorter one with light blond hair glared at the taller one and said, "You're not plotting, are you? I told you that I'm not going to –"

"Who are you?" Adam asked. He didn't feel threatened, just confused, and still in a sleepy haze.

Both men's heads snapped towards him. Adam saw now that the taller one, who had a mohawk, had a strong resemblance to Declan with pale skin, dark hair, and light blue eyes. "Are you Declan's son?"

Neither answered him. Maybe-Declan's-son scowled at him.

Standing up, Adam asked, "How did you get in here?"

Tall guy's scowl deepened. The other guy, who had on – was that a civil war uniform – stared at him with wide surprised eyes.

The tall ( _really_ tall) one waved his index finger back and forth between him and the other man. "Can you… fuck - can you see us?"

"Yes…" he replied, dragging out the last syllable. There was something odd about this.

Without warning or a sound, the blond one disappeared into thin air.

Adam met the tall one's eyes - the mohawk - the resemblance to Declan - the legends - it all clicked into place.

Ronan Lynch let out a loud, annoyed sigh. "Well, fuck me raw with a chainsaw."

They stared at each other, neither making a sound. The entire situation ran through Adam's mind, from Mr. Gray telling him about this job, until right this moment, standing face-to-face with a ghost. _'This is impossible,'_ Adam's brain kept trying to tell him. But Ronan Lynch was impossible to deny. Even without the mohawk and the Doc Martens adding half a foot or so to his height, it still looked like Ronan would stand a few inches taller than Adam, who was slightly over six feet himself.

Ronan spoke first. "How the fuck can you see me?"

"I don't know," Adam replied.

Ronan frowned. "What do you mean you don't know?"

"I mean - I don't know."

"How don't you know?"

Adam pointed at Ronan. "Do you know?"

"No."

"Well, then why would you think that I know?"

"Because…" Ronan started pacing. "I've been here for a while, and no one has ever seen me. Except -" He pointed at Adam "- _you_."

He had a point. Adam was the anomaly. "I'm sorry, I don't know. This is all new to me."

Ronan stopped pacing and rubbed the back of his neck.

"You're Ronan Lynch, right?"

"Right. And you're Adam – fucking something."

"Parrish. Where'd your friend go?"

"Don't know, _Parrish_. I'm not his keeper."

"Which one of you has been harassing me?"

Ronan glared at him. "Harassing _you_? You're the one who's been going through my things!"

"They're not _your_ things anymore."

Ronan stepped forward, and Adam realized that he didn't make any noise. His heavy boots should make a sound against the floors. The ones that creaked whenever Adam walked on them. The only sound coming from Ronan was his angry voice.

"They are my things, and I want you to keep your hands the fuck off them. And, while you're at it, get the hell out of my house too!"

Holding his ground as Ronan loomed over him, Adam said, "Declan owns all of this now and legally he can –"

"Legally, Declan can fuck the hell off and so can you!"

Adam took a long deep breath in through his mouth and let it out through his nose. "I get it. I do. I can't imagine how hard it is to be… what I mean is to watch – "

Ronan pointed his finger in Adam's face. "Eat shit and fucking die, Parrish." He closed his eyes, took a deep breath, and disappeared.

Adam sunk down in the chair. He had so many questions, and he only knew one person who might be able to help him find answers. 

**End of Part I. Part 2 coming soon...**


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Again, thank you to my team (Artist: squash1-squash2 | Beta: galwaygremlin) for being patient with me as I finish the final draft! You're amazing!

**_Strange as Angels_ **

**Chapter 3**

Adam looked from the bed in the middle of the floor up to the twenty-five-foot ceilings. 

"This isn't where I expected Aglionby's _'Most Likely to Succeed'_ to live," he said, eyeing the dusty windows of the old manufacturing plant.

"Yeah," Gansey said, looking around his home. "It's…"

" _Big_ ," Adam finished. "Messy…" 

"I guess for only me - yeah. I thought…" Gansey rubbed the back of his hand along his forehead. "Well, things went differently than I thought they would."

"Who rents out a place like this?"

"I own it," Gansey said.

"Of course, you do." Adam squatted down next to a large cardboard model of Henrietta. "This is really - um - detailed."

"I don't sleep a lot."

Adam had become distracted looking at the small replica of the town he'd grown up in, and he missed the rest of what Gansey said. "Sorry, I didn't –"

"I said - I'm glad you stopped by."

"Oh, yeah. I was in the area." Gansey glanced at his work overalls. Adam explained, "Did a shift at Boyd's in exchange for some parts for the BMW."

"Did Declan talk you into keeping it?"

Adam shook his head. "He agreed to my suggestion. Anyway, I, um, I didn't have your number, and I wanted to talk more about the ley lines when you have time."

"I have time now," Gansey said without hesitation.

"I don't want to interrupt…" Adam looked at the papers strewn all over the sofa and the half-eaten bowl of cereal on the floor. "Your lunch."

"It's okay," Gansey said, scooping up the papers from the couch. 

Boxes stacked on metal shelves that reached up to the ceiling pressed against the walls. Adam walked along them. "Is this all your research?"

"Yeah."

"All on ley lines?"

"Most of it."

Out of his back pocket, Adam pulled the map he'd found in the book Gansey had given him. He unfolded it. "Are these all ley lines?"

"No – not all of them. Those are where I suspect one might be." Gansey hurried over to a gigantic world map taped up on the wall that had dozens of pieces of strings pinned on it. Adam followed. "The red are confirmed ley lines. The yellow are suspected ones." 

They moved over to a map that was half the size of the world map and only of Virginia. A piece of yellow string ran through Henrietta and into the mountains surrounding it. Adam ran the tip of his index finger over it. 

"Why do you think there's one running through here?" he asked.

"Following paths of other ley lines." Gansey pointed to a path of string that ran from D.C. to Florida. "Reportings of psychic activity being strong right here. And I told you I died on a ley line."

Adam had so many questions about that. It must've shown on his face because Gansey pointed at the black leather sofa and said, "Let's sit down." Adam glanced down at his dirty overalls. Gansey laughed and shrugged. "A little grease will blend right in."

They sat on opposite sides of the couch. Gansey sat close to the edge, worrying his bottom lip with his thumb. "I was ten when I died," he said. 

"Obviously, you didn't stay dead."

"Obviously. I should've stayed dead, though. I was in the woods and stepped right on a hornets' nest. One sting can kill me. I was stung one hundred and twelve times." He exhaled loudly. "I felt each one - like tiny hot knives pricking me. I felt… I knew when I'd died. I hit the ground, and my heart stopped. I felt it stop. Then, I felt something else. It felt like I had swallowed an electrical current, and it was coursing through my entire body. My throat opened. My heart started again." 

He looked at Adam. Adam asked, "When did you figure out it was a ley line?"

"Right then and there. A voice told me."

"A voice?" 

"A voice said, _'Don't let this ley line die. You'll know where it is when you find it.'"_

Adam asked, "Do you know whose voice it was?" 

Ganey shook his head.

"Well." Adam exhaled this time. "That's…"

"Weird."

"No." He paused, searching for the right word. "No. That's interesting. Gansey, why are you telling _me_ this?"

"Because you're one of the smartest people that I know - maybe even the smartest. And I think you'll consider that it's the truth and that I wasn't hallucinating. That's what my entire family thinks." 

Gansey didn't outright ask Adam what he thought, but the unspoken question hung in the air. He analyzed what Gansey had told him and what he knew of Gansey. He considered the fact that auditory hallucinations often occur when dying. He went through the bullet point version of the book on ley lines. He thought about his encounter with two ghosts a few nights ago. 

"I don't think you hallucinated," Adam said. 

Gansey's shoulders relaxed, and the deep line between his brows eased. 

Adam looked at his watch. "I have to go."

"Sure. I didn't mean to keep you."

"You didn't," Adam said, standing. "Come by the Barns this week, if you have time. I want to understand more about ley lines, and you can look around the property."

"I do." Gansey started looking around the sofa for something, shoving his hands between the cushions. "I do have time, I mean. Ah - there it is." He pulled his cell out. Standing, he held it out to Adam. "Put your number in. I'll text you. Maybe I can stop by tomorrow?"

Gansey's aggressiveness about spending time together wasn't what Adam had expected, but he found that he didn't mind at all. "I was planning an inventory of the farm equipment. If you want to -"

"I can help. It'll be good to get outside for…" Gansey made a defeated noise, and his shoulders slumped. "I forgot. The Pig's out of commission. She won't start."

"I have some time. I'll take a quick look. At the very least, I might be able to tell you if it's a quick fix or a bigger problem."

The Pig was parked next to the building and under enormous faded white letters printed on the side of the building that read 'Monmouth Manufacturing.' Adam had pulled Declan's truck behind it.

Under the hood, Adam checked all of the common problems with old cars. Gansey stood on the pavement, happily chatting away about how he'd traced the ley line from the spot where he had died to an area outside Charlottesville. 

"Then I followed it along an underground stream," Gansey said. "But it started to lose energy in the mountains about fifty miles north of here."

"Ah, here's the problem." Adam stood up straight with the distributor cap in his hand. "I thought it might be…" He noticed Gansey was staring at something behind Adam and frowning. He turned to see what Gansey saw. Immediately, he recognized the smoky gray paint that had once been black on his father's 1995 Toyota pickup truck. 

His father was right there in front of him, idling at a stop sign and glaring at Adam. 

Frozen in fear, all Adam could do was stare back. He knew his father kept a handgun in the glove compartment and a rifle under the seat. His father had never threatened him with it, but Adam had never told him that he was queer, and he'd never left home before. His father looked from Gansey to Adam with disgust, then spat out the window and peeled away. Adam started to breathe again. 

"Do you know that guy?" Gansey asked.

Adam shook his head. "No."

~ ~ ~ 

The plumber stood in the kitchen, his eyes darting from wall to wall, floor to ceiling.

"What's the matter, Bill?" Adam asked. 

"Heard things 'bout this place."

"What sort of things?" 

"Scary things."

Adam waved the piece of paper in his hand. "The only thing scary in here is this estimate."

"What are you talking about? That's nothing but fair!."

Adam replied, letting the long slow drawl of his Henrietta accent wrap around his words. "Yeah. I reckon it is, but I talked to this guy from Jefferson County and..." Adam scratched the back of his neck and tried to look like he wasn't sure if he should continue. 

"What the fuck? Really? Was it that prick Hank? He does shitty work - you tell Mr. Lynch that."

"Sure. I'll tell him."

"And I'm a local! That counts for something, right?"

"Sure - sure."

"How much lower was it ten or fifteen - I bet it was twenty percent lower. Hank always comes in too low. Well, I can't go any lower than ten and still have my best guys working."

"You do what you can, Bill. I'll tell Mr. Lynch that you're local and that you came with recommendations."

"Thanks, Adam. Appreciate that." Bill took the paper out of Adam's hand. "I'll email you a new estimate tonight."

Adam walked Bill to the door, shook his hand, and closed it, feeling satisfied for a job well done. It was close to noon. Gansey said that he'd be by sometime after lunch. Adam's stomach growled. Back inside the house, he took bologna, cheese, and yellow mustard from the fridge, and made a sandwich on the kitchen counter.

"Now, I know why my brother likes you."

Adam turned around quickly and knocked over the plastic mustard bottle into the sink. Ronan Lynch leaned against the doorframe of the kitchen, arms crossed, eyes challenging. It was the first time he'd seen Ronan since their first altercation.

 _'Well, I didn't dream it then,'_ he thought.

Ronan straightened up. He sat down and put his huge feet up on the table. "I said - now, I know why my brother likes you." 

"I heard you," Adam replied.

Ronan's scowl deepened every beat that Adam didn't ask him what he'd meant.

Eventually, Ronan gave in; he said, "I know what you did to that guy."

Adam half-laughed. "I didn't do _anything_ to that guy."

"You tricked him into thinking someone had given a lower bid."

"And how do you know that there wasn't another bid?"

"I know _everything_ that goes on in _my_ house and on _my_ land."

"Everything?" asked Adam.

"Yeah." Ronan smirked. "Everything."

"You've watched me in the shower then?'

Ronan's smirk faltered. "I didn't say that."

"You said - "

"I know what I said. That's not what I meant."

Adam shrugged, trying to act like this is a perfectly normal conversation that he was having with a dead guy. "Then you don't know _everything_ that goes on around here?"

Ronan swung his long legs around, and his powerful, black boots hit the floor. The odd soundless movements seemed to take up space in the room in the same way a loud sound would. 

"Listen, fuck face, I'm not a fucking perv. I'm not watching you in the…" When Ronan realized that Adam was teasing, his penetrating glare returned. "Fuck you, man. You're a liar. I don't care what you think about me."

"That wasn't lying," Adam said. "That guy's estimate was too high."

"So? My brother's rich. Why the fuck do you care?" 

"It's my job. Wait…" Adam shook his head. "I don't answer to you."

Ronan leaned back in the chair and laced his fingers behind his head. The black sleeveless t-shirt that he wore exposed his well-defined biceps. Adam thought that he was pretty fit for an apparition.

"You kind of do," Ronan said. "I own this house. I expect you to put all of the furniture back in the bedrooms before you leave, and put my albums back where you found them! And don't put one finger on my car! My brother had no right to give it to you."

Ronan's eyes locked on Adam in a defiant, furious stare. This wasn't a debate that Adam could win. Maybe this was a ghost-thing. Perhaps ghosts become fixated on something and couldn't listen to reason. 

Adam could live with this. He could live with a lot. He just had to throw Ronan off kilter and pretend everything was normal and casual.

He put the food back in the fridge, poured himself a glass of milk, grabbed a handful of chips, and sat down to eat lunch. Every time he glanced up, Ronan's eyes were still trying to drill holes through his skull. A photo of two punk boys kissing kept secret under a bed came to Adam's mind, making Adam feel remorseful for teasing Ronan about watching him in the shower. The photo didn't mean that Ronan was gay, but it didn't mean he was straight either. 

His regret only lasted until Ronan said, "I could lock you in the attic or the basement. Leave you there to starve to death or die from dehydration. You're a fucking brainiac, Parrish, which comes first?"

Adam held up his phone. "Make sure you get this off me before you do." He turned the phone over in his hand. "I'm assuming you do know what this is?"

Ronan stood up quickly. "Fuck you, Parrish!" 

Something caught Ronan's attention. He walked across the room and looked out the screen door. "Get a load of this fucking guy. Jesus. They're still wearing those fucking boat shoes."

Adam got up and followed Ronan's line of sight to see Gansey walking away from the Pig towards the house. 

Gansey lifted his hand. "Adam. Hi."

Ronan moved out of the way when Gansey opened the screen door and stepped inside. Adam held his breath, hoping. Gansey walked in without a glance towards Ronan. Adam exhaled. Gansey didn't see Ronan, and, from the look on Ronan's face, he hadn't expected anything different.

"Sorry to disappoint you," Ronan said, walking behind Gansey, who stretched his hand out for Adam to shake. "Bob the plumber couldn't see me. You're just lucky, I guess."

"It was Bill," Adam said.

"What?" Gansey asked.

"Nothing. Sorry. I've started talking to myself from living alone." He shook Ganey's hand. "See you got the Pig up and running."

"You were right," Gansey said. "Distributor cap. I bought a few and threw them in the trunk."

"I didn't take you for the type to run with the blue blood crowd, Parrish." Ronan looked at Gansey's salmon-colored shirt with disgust. "Why's the preppy slumming? Paying the poor trailer-park boy to write his papers for him? Or…." 

"Great," Adam said. "Thanks for stopping by."

Ronan tilted his head. "Or is this a Romeo and Juliet situation - _lovers_ from both sides of the tracks?"

"Let me just…" Adam picked up his plate and glass. 

Gansey said, "Sure." He held up a book he was holding. "I brought this for you." 

Ronan laughed. "Awwww, how sweet!"

"Yeah?" The book was twice as thick as a textbook with colored tabs sticking out from the pages – the title on the front read, _The Grand Mystery: Ley Lines of the World_.

"I've highlighted some information I thought you might find interesting and marked pages -"

Ronan clucked his tongue. "Christ - another friggin' nerd."

While Adam cleaned-up the kitchen, he exchanged small talk with Gansey about the weather, which only enraged Ronan further. He made a loud, obnoxious choking noise. 

"If I weren't dead already, you two boring motherfuckers would make me kill myself," he said.

Miming hanging himself, he tilted his head to his shoulder, rolled his eyes back in his head, and stuck his tongue out of the side of his mouth. 

"You have a bottle of water in the car?" Adam asked Gansey as he pulled his own refillable water bottle out of the cupboard. "It'll be hot out there in the barns."

"I've got one of those in the car. Let me grab it."

Adam waited until Gansey was off the porch, then he turned around and faced Ronan. Difficult people were his specialty. He just had to figure out what Ronan wanted.

He whispered, "There has to be something that you want that I can do for you." Ronan opened his mouth, but Adam put up his hand and cut him off. "But I can't stop the house from selling. If I leave, your brother will just hire someone else."

Ronan snarled. "You don't seem to get it. I'm the one with the power here - not _you_. Basement or attic, Parrish, which one will it be?"

This guy was really starting to piss Adam off. The screen door behind him creaked open. He gave Ronan a dirty look before turning his attention back to Gansey. He filled their water bottles before they headed outside to begin their inventory.

Ronan followed, sulking behind them and making offensive comments with vulgar words dripping with contempt. 

The first building they checked was one of the smaller barns painted dark gray with black trim. It was unlocked and empty except for some hay. Behind that barn sat a double-wide shed. It took several attempts to find the right key. Inside, the sun was enough to light the entire shed filled with metal cabinets and old dented toolboxes. It was also as hot as an oven.

Gansey dove right in, grabbing a big red toolbox. He sat cross-legged on the floor next to it and began pulling out tools. Adam instructed him to make one pile for items to discard and one to sell. Adam rolled over a black metal cabinet and joined Gansey on the floor. He positioned himself to face the entrance where Ronan stood leaning his back against the doorframe with his legs spread wide, one foot inside the shed, one foot outside. If he hadn't been slumped down a bit, his mohawk would've hit the top of the doorframe.

Adam made the mistake of making eye contact with him. He sneered back and began singing an annoying song.

_Squash one! Squash two!_

Unaware that Ronan Lynch's ghost was currently harassing Adam with a song that seemed to have only a few lines of lyrics, Gansey chatted cheerfully. He was happy to share everything that he knew about ley lines and the supernatural activity that he'd witnessed.

Adam realized that when Gansey talked about the ley lines' power and what they could do, Ronan's singing got a bit quieter, a little less annoying. So, he prodded Gansey with questions even if he already knew the answer, like, "Do ley lines provide power, or do they only amplify it?"

"Amplify it," Gansey responded as he threw a wrench with a little rust in the 'sell' pile. "The theory is that power already has to be there. When I was in Poland, I met a young girl who could lift things with her mind, but she had to be right on the ley line. In the Czech Republic, there was this old woman who -"

_Squash one! Squash two!_

Adam gritted his teeth. With Ronan's singing and his deaf ear, it was hard for Adam to gauge the volume of his voice, and he asked, a bit too loud, "What about ghosts?" 

Gansey looked questioningly at him.

"Sorry." Adam pointed to his left ear. "I'm deaf in this ear. Sometimes, it's hard to -"

"You're deaf? I didn't know. You never mentioned it."

"Why would I?" The end of that - 'we weren't friends' - hung in the air between them.

Gansey looked like he wanted to respond but decided against it. He grabbed a handful of nails out of the toolbox and held them up. Adam handed him an empty box for Gansey to dump them in.

Ronan kept singing.

"Right. Ghosts." Gansey threw more nails in the box. "Malory - he's the guy who wrote the book that I bought today - he believes there can't be a haunting without a ley line. People leave behind their energy, and the ley line amplifies it so that the energy comes - well, alive, so to speak."

"So the line powers ghosts - like electricity?" 

"Yes," replied Gansey. "Then there's St. Mark's Eve. I haven't seen it myself, but I spoke to a psychic in Yorkshire, England, who told me that he goes to the ley line every year on St. Mark's Eve and speaks to the spirits of people who will die in the upcoming year."

"But… but they're not dead yet. What 'power' is the ley line amplifying there?"

"Interesting question," Gansey said. "I suppose the psychic's power, or… maybe, the significance of the day and the power of the ley lines shifts the timeline. Or maybe a combination of all of it."

"Makes sense. Sort of," Adam said, throwing a remote in the trash pile that said 'Sony Betamax.' 

"There are psychics in town," Gansey said. "I've been thinking about going to talk to them. See if they know anything about the ley line here."

Adam realized that Ronan had stopped singing. He was still in the doorway, looking at his shoes and picking at the black leather bands wrapped around his wrist. He caught Adam looking at him and ran his index finger over his throat in a slicing motion. 

Maybe he should worry, he thought. None of the history Gansey had given him indicated that the hauntings here had been violent. Adam looked at the knife dangling from his ear - but what if he was violent, maybe being dead for so long had made him angrier? 

"Adam?" 

Adam turned towards Gansey. "Huh? Sorry, I… what?"

"I said, 'why don't you come with me?'"

"Where?" 

"The psychics."

"Oh, yeah - yeah, sure. That could be interesting."

Gansey looked concerned. "You okay, Adam?"

"Yeah." Adam picked up his water. "Just this heat." He took a long swig from the bottle for effect. "What else do you think the ley line here in Henrietta does?"

"There's a legend that the Welsh king Owen Glendower is here along this ley line - not dead, but sleeping."

"A Welsh king? I've never heard about him."

Gansey's face lit up. "Glendower was a medieval Welsh nobleman who fought against the English for -"

_Squash one! Squash two! Squash one two!_

~ ~ ~

Feeling hot and grimy, Adam stepped into the cold shower and let the cold water run over his sweat-soaked hair. Ronan wasn't in the bathroom with him, but he could still hear Ronan's voice inside his head. He didn't know where Ronan had gone. When Adam and Gansey were walking back to the house, Ronan hadn't followed them. He had walked away from them towards the backfield and the sunset. 

Gansey had left looking suspiciously at Adam, obviously suspecting that something wasn't right. He hadn't been wrong. The longer he sat there in the heat, listening to that song over and over and worrying if Ronan was dangerous, the more distracted he became. 

Logically, he knew that if Ronan had wanted to hurt or kill him, he could have done it by now. But Ronan was a ghost. He was left behind energy. He wouldn't think or behave like a human. Adam couldn't deduce how to diffuse Ronan's anger - Ronan who moved without sound.

Inside the shower, naked and exposed, Adam felt vulnerable. He pulled the shower curtain back and checked that his phone was still on the back of the toilet, where he'd left it. He hurried and finished, and when dressed, he went downstairs to look for Ronan, hoping to reason with him because quitting this job was not an option.

Adam walked around the dark house, turning on a light in every room, and bracing himself each time for the light to reveal Ronan standing there. The house appeared empty. He even checked the front and back porches. The only areas of the house that he hadn't checked were the basement and attic. He rechecked the living room, where he'd first seen Ronan. 

He tried calling out, "Ronan, where are you? I want to talk."

"Hi."

Adam yelped and spun around, looking for the source of the voice. Out of the dark corner of the living room stepped the other ghost he'd first seen with Ronan.

"Hi. Sorry. I didn't mean to frighten you," the ghost said. 

Still holding his hand over his thundering heart, Adam said, "It's okay. I'll live."

The ghost walked closer. "I can make a noise from now on when I want your attention. How about this?" He cleared his throat. "How about that? Is that still considered a polite way to get someone's attention?"

Adam smiled. "Yes. It is."

He smiled back. "Perfect. I'll do that from now on."

"Can I… can I shake your…?" With uncertainty, Adam held out his hand.

While holding out his hand, the ghost shrugged and laughed. "You can try."

Adam reached out. He didn't touch anything solid. It felt like the tips of his fingers were swishing through warm air.

"It's the thought that counts," the ghost said. "It's nice to meet you, Adam Parrish. I'm Noah Czerny."

"Nice to meet you, too. But excuse me if I'm… well, this is new to me - talking to ghosts. I don't want to offend or -"

"Everything's hunkey dorey here, Adam. You've been doing great. Especially with Ronan."

"I don't know about that. He's threatened to kill me."

Noah waved his hand dismissively. "I know he seems like a bad egg, but he's not - he's cool. Did I use 'cool' correctly?"

"Maybe - it depends if Ronan is actually cool or not."

"Trust me. His bark is worse than his bite."

Adam said, "His bark is pretty loud."

Noah laughed. "It really is. He can't hurt you, though, even if he wanted to."

"Why can't he?"

"Because he can't -"

"Shut the fuck up, Czerny." Ronan Lynch had arrived in the room, taking long strides toward Noah. It was like watching chaos move. He grabbed Noah by the collar and shouted, "It's none of his goddamn business!"

Noah didn't flinch. He continued to address Adam only, "Ronan can't move objects."

"You're dead meat, you little fucker!"

"What…? But - but my things in my room…?"

Noah looked sheepish. "I'm sorry, Adam. That was me. I get bored sometimes, and Ronan can be persuasive."

"I swear to God, Czerny, I'm going to make your life hell."

"I'm dead, Ronan," Noah said with amusement. "I have no _life_ for you to make a hell."

Adam asked, "You can move things, and he can't - do you know why?"

"Maybe because I've been dead a lot longer," Noah replied. "We don't know."

"There is no 'we'!" Ronan positioned himself between Adam and Noah, turning his back to Adam. Adam noticed a black tattoo peeking out from the neck of Ronan's shirt. As his arms moved, he saw the tattoo extended to his shoulders too.

"You're a traitor!" Ronan bellowed.

"Adam's not the enemy, Ronan. Trust me."

"You're supposed to be _my_ friend."

"I am your friend."

"Then stop telling people my business!"

Ronan stood only inches away from Adam. His scientific mind made it impossible to resist reaching out and trying to touch his forearm. Like Noah, he didn't feel anything solid, but unlike Noah, Ronan didn't feel warm. Touching Ronan felt like dunking his hand in a bucket filled with ice. 

It was only the barest tip of his fingers that breached Ronan's energy, but a cold, lonely feeling creeped its way inside of Adam. He snatched his hand back. 

The movement made Ronan turn around. "What the fuck, man - did you just touch me?"

"You…" Adam looked at his fingers, expecting they would look pale and bluish from the cold. "You feel different from Noah."

"Jesus fucking christ!" Ronan moved backward away from Adam. "You don't go around touching people without asking. Are you fucking mental?"

"I'm sorry. I… hey, wait a minute!" Adam returned Ronan's glare. "You're calling me rude? You're the one throwing my things around and -"

"Noah threw your things around!"

"And eavesdropping on my conversations. So, don't call me rude."

"You moved yourself into _my_ house and planted yourself in my parents' bedroom like you own the place, so… so - fuck you, Parrish!"

"You are a ghost. You don't own anything. Your brother has every legal right to sell this -"

"He doesn't need to sell this house! He doesn't need the money! It's not right - he doesn't give a fuck – fuck _you_!"

"There's nothing either of us can do about…" Adam looked back and forth between Noah and Ronan. "You look different too."

"Of course, we look different," Ronan said. "We're two fucking entirely different people."

"No - no, that's not it. Noah's sort of smudgy and washed out. No offense, Noah."

"None taken."

"He looks like a ghost, but you… Ronan, you look mostly normal. I mean, if I saw you on the street, I wouldn't suspect you were a ghost."

Ronan looked around exaggeratedly. "What the fuck does this have to do with anything?"

"I won't touch your things anymore, Adam," Noah said. 

"Jesus Christ," Ronan huffed, flopping down in the same chair near the fireplace where Adam had been the first time he'd seen them. Unlike when Adam sat on it, the cushion of the seat didn't indent under him. 

Ronan rubbed his hands along the faded floral fabric.

"Can you feel it?" Adam asked.

"Back the fuck off," Ronan snapped. "I'm not your fucking science experiment, Parrish."

Ronan wasn't wrong - Adam had definitely been concocting experiments in his head. 

"What, Ma?" Noah said and jogged to the door. He looked down the hall. "Adele's upstairs in her room." He paused. Adam watched intently. "Sure, Ma." He walked out into the hallway, calling out, "Adele! It's time for supper!"

Confused, Adam looked at Ronan. 

"He does that sometimes," Ronan said, shrugging. "He replays out scenes from his life.... oh, and his death too." In a sarcastic voice, he added, "That makes for a fun evening."

"Do you do that too?"

Ronan gave him the middle finger with both hands. "Get the fuck out of my house."

"I'm not going anywhere. I told you -"

"Poor, blah, blah, abused, blah, blah, boy, blah… fucking blah."

Adam walked out. He wasn't going to let Ronan keep baiting him. In the kitchen, he found Noah sitting at the table, mimicking eating dinner and talking to a family that only he could see. Adam walked by him and stepped out on the back porch for some air. 

He wasn't out there long, trying to process what he'd experienced today, when a voice boomed behind him. 

_Squash one! Squash two!_

**~ ~ ~**

_I said neat neat neat. She can't afford no cannon._

Adam lifted the trash bag and threw it into the large waste removal container that had been delivered to the Barns that morning. 

_Neat neat neat._ She can't afford no gun at all.

This morning Ronan had switched tunes. 

_Neat neat neat. She can't afford no cannon._

Last night in bed, for the first time since it happened, Adam was thankful for his inability to hear in one ear. Ronan had walked around the room, chanting the 'squash song' like it was a marching tune. Adam had plugged his good ear with cotton and laid on it. It softened Ronan's singing to barely audible, allowing Adam to fall asleep. 

_Neat neat neat. She ain't got no name to call._

Ronan was like an annoying, tall, angry, irritating bug buzzing in Adam's hearing ear. Adam was at his wits' end. There had to be something that would make Ronan stop. Everyone – _everyone_ had something they wanted that allowed them to be bargained with. Adam simply had to find out what it was that Ronan wanted. 

And he had to do it fast. Because everyone also had a breaking point, and Adam was nearing his. 

He had carved out time today to get online and order his textbooks. He wanted to get a head start on reading for his courses. He wanted to start that tonight. That certainly wouldn't happen with Ronan's repetitive singing.

_Neat neat neat…_

Except for Adam leaving and Declan not selling the house, there wasn't much that Ronan seemed to want. There had to be something. Adam carried the old tools from the shed to the container.

_I said neat neat neat. She can't afford no cannon._

He considered everything that he knew about Ronan. He replayed every interaction. What he was looking for was right there; he could sense it.

On the third replay of their first encounter, he remembered something he'd forgotten. 

_'Stop staring at him, you creep.'_

_'The fuck - I'm not staring at him!'_

_'Doesn't look that way to me.'_

_'I'm listening to the music.'_

Adam stopped suddenly. It must have startled Ronan too because he stuttered on the lyrics. 

_'Listening to the music.'_ Ronan had been telling him all along what he wanted.

He turned to Ronan. "Let's make a deal."

Ronan snorted. "Who are you - Monty Hall?"

"Who?"

"Let's make a deal? Monty Hall?" Ronan rolled his eyes. "Never mind. _Neat neat neat_ …"

"I can put on your albums for you. Anything you want."

_Neat neat neat. She ain't got no name to call._

"Or…" Adam pulled his phone out of his pocket. "I can play whatever you want on here." Ronan didn't stop singing, but his eyes squinted. "Probably every song ever recorded can be accessed through this."

"What do you take me for? I'm not a fucking moron."

"I'm not lying. Honest. I could put on new music for you too. Music that was made after you died."

"Prove it."

"Okay. Give me the name of a song and the artist."

"Revolting Cocks. Attack Ships on Fire."

"Revolting Cocks is that the name of the band or the song?"

"Band."

Adam googled it. "I can't find the song but -"

"Ah!"

" _But_ I found the entire album. The extended version." 

Adam pressed play on the YouTube video. Fast drums and a techno beat poured out of the phone. 

Ronan's eyes widened.

"It says…" Adam looked at his phone. "It says it's an hour and twenty-five minutes long. We could go in the house, and I could put it on for you." 

"I don't need your help!"

"It's not help. It's… um, it's a 'thank you' for allowing me to stay here."

Ronan barked out a laugh before saying, with very a clear and strong annunciation, "Fuck. You. Asshole." He closed his eyes, and after a beat, he vanished. 

Adam wondered where Ronan went when he disappeared. He considered that maybe Ronan just became invisible and stayed around watching him. At this point, he didn't care. He was mentally exhausted, and he needed some quiet.

The reprieve from Ronan's verbal assault lasted the rest of the afternoon and through dinner. 

Then the glorious, peaceful, serene silence was broken. "Since you stole my bed - put the music on in the living room."

Adam didn't startle as easy this time. He turned the sink off and shook the excess water from the plate he'd just washed. "I'm going to put a cowbell on you."

Ronan stood there, acting as if he hadn't left earlier in a huff. "You didn't answer my question."

"It sounded more like a demand than a question."

_Squash one! Squash -_

"Alright - alright. Enough. You win. I'll put it on in the living room for you."

Ronan turned and walked away.

"I guess you're ready now," Adam said, drying his hands on a towel. 

Ronan was already sitting on the floor, his back up against a chair, and his knees bent. He was chewing on the wristbands and not looking at Adam. 

It took a few minutes for Adam to find the video again. The music started. He went to place it on the seat behind Ronan's head, but Ronan stopped him. "Louder."

"I don't suppose I'll get a _'please_.'"

Ronan leaned his head back and looked up at Adam. He blinked repeatedly, sending his incredibly long black lashes fluttering open and closed over his pale blue eyes. "Prettyyyyyyyy pleeeeeeease."

"Jerk," Adam muttered as he turned the volume up. He dropped the phone on the seat and walked out. 

  


He took his MacBook upstairs to the desk in the bedroom to begin reading the first chapter of his 'Introduction to Neuroscience' course. He'd downloaded the syllabus for the course today, and, while he read, he took notes and jotted down ideas for his writing assignments. The almost hour and a half passed by quickly. He realized that the music had stopped only a few seconds before Ronan came into the room. 

He didn't look as angry as usual. _'Maybe music does calm the savage beast,'_ Adam thought.

Ronan sat on the edge of the bed, facing Adam. "Why did you have that inside your phone?"

"What?"

Ronan spoke like he was talking to a small child. "Why did you have that album recorded on your phone?"

"Oh…" Adam picked up his phone. "It's not inside my phone. I got it from the…" Adam was pretty sure Ronan wouldn't know about the internet. When Ronan died, it wasn't a household name yet. This was like talking to a time traveler. "How much do you know about computers?"

"I wasn't born in the stone age, Parrish. We had a computer."

"Really?"

"Jesus, yeah - a Commodore. It's probably still in the attic along with the Atari and Nintendo."

"Video games. I forgot about those."

"We had computers at school too," Ronan said.

"Sure. But what about the internet?"

Ronan shrugged.

"Email?"

"Yeah. We could send emails to teachers and other students at school." He chuckled. "When I went."

"But what about to other people - outside of school?"

"Yeah. Some guys had that at home. When Declan was an intern, he bragged about sending an email to someone in Japan." After a beat, Ronan added, "Fucking asshole."

This would help explain things. Ronan had some based knowledge of things. Adam explained the internet and that emails and instant messaging across the world were commonplace. Without getting technical, he explained websites and sharing data and how you can access this through computers and phones.

"People can upload all kinds of things to the internet, and then anyone can access it. That's how I got that album on YouTube. YouTube is a place for videos."

"What else?" Ronan asked.

"What else what?"

"What else do people put on the internet?"

Adam half-smiled. "Porn's pretty popular."

Ronan looked suspicious. "Like copies of porn movies?"

"That and a lot more. You have no idea. Cats too."

"What about them?"

"They're really popular on the internet."

Looking horrified, Ronan asked, "In porn? What the sick fuck is that?"

"No - no. Looking at them – videos – pictures."

"Porn and cats - got it. Nothing else?"

"There's social media. That's where people share their photos and talk with one another. Everyone has some sort of social media account."

" _Everyone_? I want to see my brother."

"Declan – okay I can –"

"No. Matthew."

"Oh. Um, yeah - right. Your younger brother. That might be easy."

Adam opened Facebook on his computer. He had one, but it was only staged for schools and job recruiters to see how he was studious and mature and didn't share pictures of himself falling down drunk.

He searched 'Matthew Lynch,' and, because he had friended Declan, the Matthew he wanted was the first result.

Adam would've never thought he was Declan and Ronan's brother. He was the light to their dark with blond curly hair and deep, shiny _happy_ blue eyes. His smile in his profile photo reminded Adam of the phrase, 'smiling from ear to ear.' He had on an obnoxious floral print shirt. Adam wondered if he'd been adopted. 

Because Matthew had tagged Declan in a few photos, Adam could see them. He picked up the computer and brought it over to Ronan. Sitting on the bed next to him, he titled the laptop so Ronan could see.

Ronan bit the side of his lip as Adam scrolled through Matthew's timeline. He explained to Ronan that he couldn't see everything because he wasn't friends with Matthew on Facebook.

"Well, then be his friend!" Ronan demanded.

"That would be weird. I don't know him. People usually only friend back someone that they know."

Adam had paused on a photo of Matthew and Declan, flanking a young boy who looked maybe eight or nine and was definitely a Lynch. The three were linked together with their arms crossed around their shoulders. Adam hovered the pointer on the boy to reveal the tag - Quinn Lynch. 

"That's Declan's son," he told Ronan.

The look on Ronan's face it… Adam took in a sharp breath. His chest started to ache from the sudden, horrible realization that Ronan wasn't just a ghost. He had been a person with a life and brothers who he loved, and he'd liked cars and had a future, and then he died. 

He had been rich, handsome, and young, and now he had nothing - except for this house.

"Ronan, let's look on Declan's page. He might have more photos of Matthew and -"

Ronan jumped up and stalked towards the door. Without turning around, he walked out the door, shouting, "I want you the fuck out of my parents' bedroom, Parrish. It's – it's disrespectful!"

Adam looked around the room. _'This isn't my life,'_ he reminded himself. But it was Ronan's, and he'd invaded it. He understood that now.

He'd move out of the room tomorrow. Now, he signed up for free Spotify on his laptop and searched playlists for punk. He found a playlist called '40 years of pUNK' that ran almost eleven hours long.

Downstairs, he plugged in the laptop and set it down on top of the console player and pressed play. Music filled the empty sitting room. Ronan might not even be around, but Adam wanted to try. 

They needed to find a way to live peacefully together. They didn't need to be friends. 

They couldn't be friends, Adam thought.

Who could be friends with a ghost?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Spotify playlist](https://open.spotify.com/playlist/2OxMjbHYbGJcMk4Cw1kzRu?si=fzVmSWOQQ9ik4WA9Y-ZiAQ)
> 
> The playlist will be updated with new music as chapters are posted.


	4. Chapter 4

**_Strange as Angels_ **

**Chapter 4**

A clap of thunder startled Adam out of his sleep. He rolled over in bed to face the window and watch the lightning light up the dark sky. The intense summer storm was off to the east and moving towards the Barns fast.

The rain began hard and violent, rushing in through the open window and splattering the floor. Adam jumped up and closed it. He stood there for a while, his palms on the sides of the middle window, forehead pressed against the pane, watching the storm, feeling it rumble inside his chest.

It had been raining like this on the night of his tenth birthday. The night he'd decided that he wanted to become a doctor. It had been the first and only time his mother had taken him to the hospital after one of his father's beatings. There had been so much abuse by that point that he couldn't remember what he'd done that caused his father's rage. He remembered that his head had been bleeding from a cut above his eye and wouldn't stop. He remembered being so dizzy that he couldn't stand up. He remembered throwing up in the truck on the way to the hospital. He remembered his mother yelling at him that he would clean it up later. 

Most of all, he remembered the doctor in the ER. He'd introduced himself to Adam as Dr. Sam. 

Dr. Sam had been young, handsome, smart, and lacked a local accent, and Adam had blushed feverishly each time he'd touched him. 

When they'd been alone, Dr. Sam sat on a rolling stool, his legs spread wide and expression serious, and had asked, "Is someone hurting you, Adam?" 

"No, sir. I fell and hit my head." 

"On what?" 

"A rock." 

"Where did you get the bruises on your back?" 

"Football." 

"What position do you play?" 

"Um… I run with the ball." 

The doctor had sighed, patted Adam's knee, and left. He'd closed the curtain, but Adam had slipped off the bed to look through the slit to watch Dr. Sam talking to an older doctor. When his mother had come into view, they called her over. Soon she had started crying, dabbing at her eyes with a tissue that Dr. Sam had given her. 

Adam had heard snippets of what she said, "Older boys – he's different – you know how it is – I'll talk to their mothers." 

They'd broken apart, and, as soon as his mother had turned her back on the men, the tears had stopped. Adam had hurried back into bed before she'd yanked the curtain open and hissed at him, "Get dressed now." Behind her, his handsome doctor had looked angry and upset as he argued with the other doctor. 

He had been tying his shoes when a nurse came in to get his mother to sign some paperwork. Only a minute or so passed before Dr. Sam had slipped back in between the slit in the curtain. 

"However, you got hurt, Adam, I want you to know that it's not your fault. Whoever hurt you is wrong." He had taken Adam's hand gently and placed a small card in it. "This is my business card. It has my number on it. If you ever need help – _any_ help, Adam, I mean it - or want to talk, go to your school nurse, and have her call me – okay? I promise I'll help you." 

Adam hadn't known what to say, so he'd only nodded. Later, back inside the trailer, he had locked himself inside the bathroom and taken the card out of his shoe where he'd hidden it. He had held it in his hand, feeling something that he'd never felt before – _power_. 

This tiny card had given him power. He had stared at it, listening to his father ranting about the smell of vomit in the truck, and read it over and over until he had it memorized. He had known then that he would never use it. He'd never call Dr. Sam. He'd never fantasized that Dr. Sam would show up like a superhero and swoop him up and take him away. 

No. Dr. Sam wouldn't save him, but he'd transferred some of his power to him, and Adam wanted more of it. He wanted to be confident and important like Dr. Sam, and he wanted to be able to brandish the sort of power that could help other children like him. 

Adam carried that card with him every day since. It was in his wallet right now. 

Every so often, he looked up Dr. Sam on Facebook. He'd married another doctor when Adam was thirteen and moved to Richmond. Became a father to a son when Adam was fifteen and again to a daughter last year. The only daydream about Dr. Sam that he'd ever had was running into him after he becomes a doctor and saying, "Hey, funny story… we've met before. I was that poor, abused kid you tried to help once. I'm a doctor now too." 

The rain wasn't letting up. It felt like the storm had stopped directly over the Barns. Adam wasn't going to go back to sleep anytime soon. Five hours of sleep was more than enough for him. He put on a shirt and went downstairs. 

_I'll stop the world and melt with you_

_You've seen the difference_

_And it's getting better all the time_

_There's nothing you and I won't do_

_I'll stop the world and melt with you_

Adam stopped at the door of the sitting room. He knew this song. It ended, and another song began. Ronan was there in the sitting room, looking out the window in much the same way that Adam had just been moments before. 

"Hey," Adam said. 

"Hey," Ronan said without turning around, seeming unsurprised by Adam's presence. 

"Do you mind if I play that song from the beginning?" 

Ronan shrugged. 

Adam put the song back on and turned the music up so he could hear it in the kitchen.

_Moving forward using all my breath_

_Making love to you was never second best_

_I saw the world crashing all around your face_

_Never really knowing it was always mesh and lace_

_He turned the volume up so he could hear the song in the kitchen and he went to go get something to drink._

_Trapped in a state of imaginary grace_

_I made a pilgrimage to save this human race_

_Never comprehending the race has long gone by_

_I'll stop the world and melt with you_

_You've seen the difference_

_And it's getting better all the time_

_There's nothing you and I won't do_

_I'll stop the world and melt with you_

_The future's open wide_

Adam was drinking milk straight from the carton when Ronan walked in.

"You like this song?"

"Yeah," Adam said, putting the milk back in the fridge. "I didn't think punk sounded like this."

Adam had expected a sharp and sarcastic response, but Ronan answered almost normal, sounding only slightly annoyed and bored. "The band was punk. This song was more post-punk or new wave style."

"I like it." 

"Why?" 

"I don't know." 

"How can you not know why you like it?" 

"I don't know," Adam said again, feeling stupid. It wasn't often he didn't know something.

"Come on. This isn't hard!" 

Adam played with the hem of his white t-shirt, trying to think of a way to explain it. "Okay. It's like food. I can't tell you why I like the taste of a banana. I just do. I just like the way this song sounds." The answer seemed to satisfy Ronan. "And…" 

Adam listened to the song.

_Woah woah woah_

_Woah woah woah woah_

_I'll stop the world and melt with you_

_You've seen the difference_

_And it's getting better all the time_

_There's nothing you and I won't do_

_I'll stop the world and melt with you_

"And it doesn't say she or he in the lyrics," Adam explained. "It's 'you,' and he could be singing about a boy or a girl." 

Ronan wouldn't meet his eyes. "Great observation, Parrish. A real sharp one you are." 

"You asked me," Adam snapped back. "I gave you an honest answer." 

Every interaction with Ronan left him feeling sharp and annoyed. He needed to find something to do. He had nothing left to do in the kitchen. It was a quarter after four in the morning and still pouring rain outside. He could read more chapters for his course. He had already finished the first three. The boxes in the attic still needed to be cataloged, and he needed to figure out where he was going to sleep now. 

The song had changed, and distracted Ronan.

_Do you have the time to listen to me whine_

_About nothing and everything all at once_

_I am one of those_

_Melodramatic fools_

_Neurotic to the bone_

_No doubt about it_

"Who's this?" Ronan asked. "I don't know this song." 

"I don't –" 

Ronan sighed. "I know – you don't know jack shit about music. I'm starting to get that. What do you listen to, nerd?" 

"I don't really specifically listen to music, but it's always playing in the places where I work." 

Ronan didn't look like he was paying attention. The fingers on his right hand were taping out the beat of the song on his thigh.

_I went to a shrink_

_To analyze my dreams_

_She says it's lack of sex that's bringing me down_

_I went to a whore_

_He said my life's a bore_

_So quit my whining cause it's bringing her down_

"I can look on the computer and see who it is," Adam said, already making his way back down the hall. It gave him something to do. 

Ronan followed Adam into the sitting room, where he took the laptop over to the seat. He sat down and balanced it on his lap. 

"The band's Green Day. The song's 'Basket Case.'" 

"When was it released?" 

Adam held up his hand. "Give me a sec." He went to the song's Wikipedia page. "August 1994."

_It all keeps adding up_

_I think I'm cracking up_

_Am I just paranoid?_

_Or am I just stoned?_

"I want to listen to more of them," Ronan said. 

"Okay." Adam pulled his phone out of his pocket. "I'm going to set it up on my phone. I need my laptop." 

For once, Ronan didn't argue or give him a hard time. He laid on the floor, resting his head on his hands behind his head. 

Adam found a playlist that was all Green Day and put his phone down. On his laptop, he searched for futons on all the discount furniture sites that he could find. They were way more than he'd expected. He had the budget to buy one, but that was money that wouldn't go towards books and things he needed for school. He could buy one from the business expense account, but then he'd have to explain to Declan why he didn't want to sleep in a perfectly good queen bed. He was afraid that if he told Declan about Ronan that Declan would think he was lying and only trying to stir up trouble. 

There was also the question of which room he was going to sleep in. Which room that wouldn't feel like trespassing. He could guess, or he could simply ask Ronan. 

"Which room can I sleep in that wouldn't make you feel uncomfortable?" he asked. 

"There's a room off the kitchen," Ronan replied. 

"The maid's room?" 

Ronan snorted. "We never had a maid." 

The room off the kitchen was the smallest bedroom, about one hundred square feet Adam had estimated when he'd first seen it. He went to inspect it, grabbing a tape measure along the way. 

Inside the room, Adam found a double bed with a black iron headboard and a small wood oak night table. He knew that he'd cataloged this room as empty. He pushed in the mattress with his hand. It felt new. 

Ronan appeared in the doorway. "Something wrong?" 

"This room was empty," Adam said with certainty. "I looked in here on the first day." 

"Well, it's obviously not empty." 

Adam looked around the room. He had to check his inventory sheet, but he was positive that this room had been empty. He clearly remembered being in here. He looked up at the light and the fan attached to it. _'The fan doesn't work,'_ he thought and pulled the chain. The fan didn't move. 

"There are window AC units in the basement," Ronan said. 

"I doubt that they'll work after –" 

"They'll work." 

"I… I know…" Adam looked in the closet, knowing before he opened the door that there would be an empty shelf above a metal rod with two empty wooden hangers on it. "I know I checked this room, and there was definitely not a bed in it!" 

"Maybe the aliens put it in there," Ronan said dryly. 

Adam opened his mouth to say something sarcastic, but he saw Ronan's lips had spread into something like a smile. It looked odd on his face, like he hadn't smiled in a very long time and had forgotten how to do it. 

It might not have been the right time to ask it, but that smile seemed like an opening. Adam had to take the opportunity and jump through it; he shifted gears sharply and asked the question he'd been dying to ask. "Ronan, how'd you die?" 

"Not like Declan and that coroner think I did. I sure as fuck didn't off myself."

"Then how? What happened?"

"I don't know, man. I got drunk the night before my 19th birthday, passed out, and woke the fuck up without body." 

Ronan walked out, leaving Adam alone in the room to spend the next hour obsessing over the sudden appearance of furniture. 

~ ~ ~

Adam had a hard time walking away from solving a problem. It's what made him a great mechanic. He wasn't satisfied until he got to the root of an issue. The appearance of furniture in an empty room was an inscrutable problem that had Adam fixated on solving. 

The bed had no interesting marks on it. It was simply a bed. Adam had inspected it thoroughly when he put sheets on it. The nightstand was just a nightstand. The single drawer was empty before he put his things in it. The wood looked older, and there was a deep scratch on the top about three-quarters of an inch long. It didn't seem to mean anything, but Adam jotted it down in his notes. 

He wrote down all the evidence that he had and all the possible scenarios that he could think of – yes, even aliens. If he had a whiteboard, he'd write it all down on there and stand in front of it, tapping the marker on his chin as he contemplated the problem. Instead, he was sitting in the living room looking at what he'd written down in his notebook and unconsciously clicking his pen along to the fast, grinding music playing from his phone. 

He ranked the possibilities from most to least plausible. The second most plausible was that Noah had moved it in there. That theory had too many holes, though. The furniture wasn't in another room. Adam had been in every room of the house, he'd inventoried every large item, and he hadn't seen neither the bed nor the nightstand. 

At the top of the list and the most plausible was 'unknown variable.' There was something that Adam didn't know. And, given all the strange things that have happened since he'd moved into the Barns, he'd decided that the possibilities were endless. 

"I want to listen to one of my albums," Ronan said, pulling Adam out of his thoughts and back into the living room. 

Ronan laid in his favorite position on the floor in front of the stereo with one leg bent at the knee. He'd spent all day there as far as Adam knew. Adam had put on a ten-hour playlist to keep him occupied while Adam worked.

_Society's arms of control_

_Rise above, we're gonna rise above_

_Think they're smart, can't think for themselves_

_Rise above, we're gonna rise above?_

"Okay. Which one?" 

"This one."

_We are tired of your abuse_

_Try to stop us, but it's no use_

"I don't know what this _one_ is."

_We're born with a chance_

_Rise above, we're gonna rise above_

_I am gonna have my chance_

_Rise above, we're gonna rise above_

"Jesus Christ, I don't know what I'm going to do with you, Parrish." Ronan sat up. He hugged his knees. "It's Black Flag. One of the fucking greatest punk bands ever."

Adam got up and crouched down in front of the crates of albums he'd carried down from the attic this afternoon. "Any idea which one it's in?" 

"It was thirty-two years ago – what the fuck do you think?" 

He repositioned himself so he could look at the albums as Adam flicked through them. 

Adam said, "It would be helpful if they were in alphabetical order." 

"What fun is that?" 

"Fun?" Adam had been patient, trying to make peace with Ronan. His patience would only last so long. He had a job to do, and being Ronan's DJ wasn't one of them. "How is flipping through an entire box of albums just to find _one_ considered fun?" 

"Because sometimes you find something you weren't looking for and forgot that you had." 

Adam thought about that and decided that it was a valid reason. Still feeling contrary, though, he said, "I still don't understand what's the difference between the digital version and the album." 

"It sounds different." 

"Doesn't it sound better recorded digitally?" 

"I didn't say _better_. I said ' _different_.'" 

The albums had a musty smell that made Adam stop a few times to scratch his nose. 

"Wait!" Ronan's finger pointed at the albums. "Go back. No – one more. Yeah, that one. Put that one on instead." The front cover was a white brick wall with 'Pink Floyd The Wall' in the center. " _Please_ don't tell me that you don't know who Pink Floyd is." 

An image of a pretty girl with long brown hair wearing a black t-shirt with 'Pink Floyd' printed above a prism spectrum came to Adam's mind. She had sat in front of him in his eighth-grade math class. He could still remember how good her hair smelled when it would fall onto his desk.

"I know who Pink Floyd is." He read the words off the t-shirt he could see in his mind. "Dark Side of the Moon." 

Ronan eyed him suspiciously. "What's your favorite song?" 

"I didn't say I knew the songs." 

"I understand why fate brought us together," Ronan said, moving back to lying on the floor, bending both knees this time. "The fates decided that I need to enlighten you about the wonders of music." 

Chuckling softly, Adam put the album on. "So, you're not going to try to kill me?" 

"Aurea mediocritas," Ronan said. 

Surprised, Adam looked at him, but Ronan had closed his eyes. 

"So, you think we're in the ' _golden mean_ ' then," Adam replied. "Well - aut pax aut bellum." 

Ronan's lips curved into a tiny lopsided smile. "Only peace or war, huh? I'm more of a 'aut neca aut necare' type. You know – kill or be killed." 

Adam replied, "Miseram pacem vel bello bene mutar." 

"Isn't 'bad peace' another form of war anyway? I mean - nisi paria non pugnant." 

Adam waved a hand between them. "Two of us aren't fighting." He thought for a moment. It was a reach in this weird conversation, but he said it anyway, "Corvus oculum corvi non eruit." _(A raven does not pick out the eye of another raven)._

And, in the quiet space between two songs, Ronan said, "I was never going to try to kill you." 

He opened his eyes fully and stared intently at Adam. No matter how much of an unconventional, uncivil, unreasonable nuisance Ronan Lynch was – he was still gorgeous, and having someone that beautiful look at him like that made Adam's stomach do a somersault. 

Ronan added, "Dictum meum pactum." ( _My word is my bond_ ). 

Adam replied with a few short nods. 

Using an ancient language, they had found a connection, a common ground, and a truce had finally been declared.

~ ~ ~

It was impossible to sleep. Adam had stripped down to his underwear and still couldn't get comfortable. The rain had stopped, but the window didn't have a screen in it. Opening it would be an invitation to every mosquito in the area. He regretted not getting the AC unit from the basement. The chances that it would work after all these years were slim. He thought that maybe he could repair it, but he'd been too tired to deal with it tonight. 

"Ronan! Ronan!" 

Adam shot up in bed. Directly across the foot of the bed, Noah stood in the doorway, looking frantically around the room. 

"Noah, what's wrong? Is Ronan –?" 

"Ronan, where are you?" Noah shouted, turned, and ran away. 

Adam got up and followed him. 

Shouting Ronan's name, Noah ran down the hall. He stopped and looked in the living room. 

Adam stopped behind him. Noah turned and ran through Adam. It felt like a rush of hot wind. Noah kept calling to Ronan as he ran up the stairs. 

"I'm in here, you fucking airhead!" Ronan's voice cried out from inside the living room.

Ronan was casually spread out on the dust cover spread on the sofa, eyes closed, head resting on one arm, while his large Dr. Martens that hung over the other arm shook in time to the music.

_Well, she walks around late at night_

_Among startled people sleepin' tight_

_If you hear her knocking on your door_

_You better sneakin´away_

"What's going on?" Adam asked. 

"You're listening to the birth of punk, Parrish, have some…" Ronan had opened his eyes. His head had lifted off the sofa. He blinked a few times rapidly as his eyes roamed over Adam's body. 

Adam suddenly felt self-conscious, standing there in nothing but his boxers. He crossed his skinny arms over his nearly hairless chest. 

"Why's Noah acting like that?" he asked. 

Ronan's voice sounded funny. "I told you – he wigs out like that sometimes." He looked at Adam with disgust before lying back down. "Now, shut the fuck up – I'm listening to the Sonics here, asshole."

_Well, you better be careful_

_Before it's too late_

_She gonna make you itch_

_'Cause she's the witch_

"You said that he replays scenes from his life and death. Did he know you when he was alive?" 

"I don't fucking know why he does what the fuck he does. He's a fucking ghost!" 

"Yeah, but if he's replaying something then –" 

"Fucking Christ!" Ronan said, sitting up. "What's with the fucking twenty questions, Parrish?" 

"It's not _twenty_ questions!" Adam responded. "There's a ghost running around the house in distress, shouting your name – I'm sorry for being curious!" 

"You're sorry? Good - you're forgiven." He laid back down just as casually as he had before. "Put that song back to the beginning." 

"Why are you so miserable and angry all the damn time?"

"Are you fucking serious, Parrish? Why the fuck do you think I'm not a fucking ray of sunshine all the time?"

"I get that. But it's not my fault you're dead! Stop taking it out on me."

He stalked back into the bedroom. After putting on a shirt and sneakers, he headed down to the basement and carried the AC unit upstairs. He was surprised it was so light, and, even more, surprised that it fit perfectly into the window. It seemed like it was custom made for it. He figured, with all of the money the Lynches had, it probably had been.

It turned on without a hiccup. 

He stripped back down to his boxers. Standing like a starfish, he let the cold air blow against his sweat-soaked skin. 

It felt amazing. It felt like luxury. 

It felt… _'This will raise the electric bill,'_ he thought. 

It felt _wasteful_. 

_'Will Declan take it out of my personal expenses?'_

He turned the knob to 'low' and got into bed. 

Was he sensible? Or was he scared? 

He wondered if he'd always be this way, always worried about the costs of things. Even if he had the money for luxury, could he ever spend it without guilt? 

Now, stressed about money, mentally, he calculated and recalculated his budget to add more to his savings until he finally fell asleep. 

~ ~ ~

The storm had done some damage around the property, ripping branches off trees and several shingles from the porch roof and several more off the farmhouse. Adam had dragged a questionably safe wooden ladder out of one of the sheds and propped it up against the side of the house. He had to make a few trips up to carry the replacement shingles and tools. With each step, he held his breath, hoping the rung wouldn't break under his weight. 

When Adam finished with the porch, he sat on the steps drinking lemonade he'd made from a powdered mix. Studying the buildings of the Barns, he contemplated why Niall Lynch, an Irish immigrant, had decided to settle his family here. Maybe, he just loved the country, or he maybe was doing something illegal, or maybe hiding from someone. So many questions and Adam wasn't getting any answers. 

Adam heard someone gently clearing their throat a second before Noah appeared before him. 

"Hi, Adam." 

"Hi, Noah," Adam said, smiling. 

"It looks like it's hot today." 

"Yeah," Adam said, wiping the sweat on his forehead with the hem of this t-shirt. 

Adam had a million questions that he wanted to ask Noah. How did you die? What was life like during the Civil War? Why can't you move onto the afterlife? _Is_ there an afterlife? 

Instead, he asked, "Have you seen Ronan?" 

"Yeah," Noah said, looking more translucent in the bright light of the sun. He sat on the step below Adam. "He's around here somewhere sulking. You hurt his feelings last night." 

"I hurt _his_ feelings?" 

"Yeah. You have to understand, Adam. Ronan's complicated. His exterior is prickly, but inside he's a big softie." 

"Hm…" Adam wasn't so sure about that. 

"I wish you'd known him before his dad died." 

"You knew Ronan when he was alive?" 

"Of course. I've been here for a very long time." 

"Oh, yeah. Obviously, so you lived here at the Barns when you were alive. Is that why you haunt – is that term offensive or –?" 

"It's fine." 

"Is that why you haunt here?" 

"I didn't live in this exact house. They built this after. My home was..." He gestured vaguely north. "Over there. And we didn't own all this land. The Whelks owned some of it." 

"And you died in the war?" 

Noah laughed. "I died during the war, but not in battle – no." 

Noah went on to explain that his best friend Barrington Whelk's mental state had declined after he'd suffered a serious injury in the war, fighting for the Rebels. Whelk and some of the locals started to believe that Satan had opened a doorway to hell on Noah's family's property and that demons were aiding the Union army in the war. 

"Barry believed that a demon had possessed me, and that's why I'd joined up with the Yankees. He wrote a letter to my general pretending to be my sister and said that my mother was dying. My general granted me furlough. When I got home, Barrington was waiting for me. He thought if he killed me and exercised the demon that the hole would close, giving the Rebels a chance to win the war." 

"I'm sorry, Noah." 

"It's okay." He said breezily. "I'm over it now." 

Adam asked, "What about your family?" 

"When I got here, our home was on fire. I thought they'd died. But Ronan found out for me later that Whelk had been acting so oddly that they'd gone to my Aunt's in Philadelphia a week before." 

"Ronan? How did he find that out?" 

"My sister Adele's son Edward inherited the land. He held onto it and sold it after the depression. Ronan tracked him down through records in town. He called Edward's grandson and asked him." 

"I'm confused. How'd Ronan do that?" 

"By the telephone." 

"Oh!" Adam realized the missing part of the story. "Ronan could communicate with you when he was alive." 

"I'm sorry. I thought you knew that!" 

About a hundred more questions were added to Adam's list. 

"I thought I was the first person to see you?" 

Noah grinned. "You're the first person to see _Ronan_. Not me." 

"Have a lot of people seen you?" 

"A lot of kids. Ronan. There was this really old guy who lived here who used to call me a race traitor. That wasn't fun. The psychics can see me too." 

"The psychics? The ones who live in town?" 

Noah nodded. "They come out here sometime and ask me a lot of questions. I don't always know what they're talking about." 

Adam wanted to ask Noah more about the psychics, but Noah changed the subject. "Do you play baseball, Adam?" 

"Sorry. I don't." 

"Oh," Noah said, looking disappointed. "What about fishing? Do you like to fish?" 

"Yeah. I do." 

Fishing had been a primary food source for Adam and his parents during the warmer months. At one time, they'd even owned a small rowboat until it had needed repairs and his father didn't have the money to repair it. Fishing had been one of Adam's chores, but the peace and tranquility of it had been something he'd enjoyed. 

Noah's eyes widened in excitement. "There are rods and a tackle box in the small shed. Maybe we can go fishing tomorrow morning? There's a stream filled with brook and rainbow trout about a fifteen-minute walk from here. Through those backwoods." 

"Sure." Adam thought it was a good idea. Some fish would help him save on food, and he could learn more about Noah. Something else struck Adam. "You can leave the property?" 

"Yeah, not far though. I used to be able to go into town, but I can't do that anymore." 

"Why?"

"I don't know." 

"What happens when you try?" Adam asked. 

"I go away." 

Adam got excited. Would this answer his question about an afterlife? "Where do you go?" 

"I don't remember. I just…" He flapped his hands in the air. "Fly away. And sometimes time gets messed-up. Sometimes, I come back in a straight line. Sometimes, I come back backward or forward." He shrugged. "You look disappointed that I don't know where I go. I'm sorry." 

"No – no. I'm not – well, I am – but it's not your fault." 

Noah added, maybe to make Adam feel better, "Ronan remembers where he goes." 

"He does? Where does he go?" 

"He says he goes to heaven because he's such an angel, but he's only teasing me." 

That sounded like Ronan. 

"We should leave around sunrise," Noah said. Adding, "I'd like to promise I'll be here, but you know…" With his index finger, Noah drew a circle in the air twice, then zig-zagged it around. 

Adam laughed. "And is it like that for Ronan?" 

"No. Ronan doesn't forget things like I do. And – what is it Ronan says I do – oh, yeah. He doesn't 'wig out' like I sometimes do." 

"And you can touch objects, and Ronan can't." 

"Yeah. I tried to teach him." 

"If you're not solid, how do you do it?" 

"I don't know. I just do." He bit the side of his lip and thought for a moment. "It's hard to explain. Let me show you. Hold out your finger." 

Adam pointed his index finger at Noah. Noah took his finger and moved closer to Adam's. When Noah's finger was about a single millimeter away, Adam felt a slight tingling touch the tip of his finger. 

"It feels like a slight electric shock. Can you do it stronger?" 

Noah nodded. 

Adam formed a hypothesis _, 'If ghosts are made of energy, Noah can channel that energy to move objects.'_

"Do you know why Ronan can't do it?" 

"Because Ronan isn't like me." 

"What do you mean?" 

"Ronan's just different. Don't bring it up with him. It's a very touchy subject!" 

"Isn't every subject touchy with Ronan?" 

Noah laughed, and, as if on cue, Ronan appeared off in the distance, walking along a line of trees towards a field of wildflowers. He froze when he saw that Adam and Noah were looking at him. Adam wondered if he should wave. Ronan gave a single sharp nod and turned away. 

"Yeah. Big softie. Right," Adam said, looking towards Noah, but Noah was gone. 

~ ~ ~

Adam stopped reading – he'd already read through half of the required reading for one course – and listened to the music playing on his phone. Even though Ronan wasn't around, he found that he liked having the music on for background noise.

The opening of this song caught his attention. He tapped his fingers on the arm of the chair along with the beat.

_I've been looking so long at these pictures of you_

_That I almost believe that they're real_

_I've been living so long with my pictures of you_

_That I almost believe that the pictures_

_Are all I can feel_

He liked the words too. He closed his eyes and took them in. 

Adam had been alone his entire life. If he had ever been lonely, he couldn't recognize it. That's why it surprised him that he recognized it in the singer's voice and felt a pang in his chest. It confused him. It wasn't his loneliness, but it still emotionally affected him. 

_Remembering you_

_Fallen into my arms_

_Crying for the death of your heart_

_You were stone white_

_So delicate_

_Lost in the cold_

_You were always so lost in the dark_

_Remembering you_

_How you used to be_

_Slow drowned_

_You were angels_

_So much more than everything_

_Hold for the last time then slip away quietly_

_Open my eyes_

_But I never see anything_

Adam looked at his phone to note the song title and artist. He knew it felt odd to want to hear it again because the song actually made him ache. But he wanted that feeling again. 

"Is this The Cure?" Ronan asked from behind him. 

"Yeah," Adam said. "It's called 'Pictures of You.'" 

"Robert Smith. I'd know his voice anywhere." Ronan sat on the chair opposite Adam. "What year was this released?" 

Adam googled it. "'90." 

"That's why I didn't recognize it." 

The song changed. Adam didn't like it as much. He looked at Ronan. Ronan had thrown one long leg over the arm of the chair. 

"Why are you listening to The Cure?" Ronan asked. 

"The app that we listen to the music through – " 

"App?" 

"They're software programs for your phone. The app is called Spotify, and it's intelligent. When you listen to a song, it'll recommend other songs that you might like. It recommended The Cure." 

Ronan rubbed his chin. "With this Spotify can you create a mixtape sort of thing?" 

"It can. It's called a playlist." 

"Is it a lot of work to create a playlist?" 

"No. It's pretty easy." 

"And that doesn't take long? Mixtapes used to take forever. You have to rewind and forward the tape and hit record just right. It was a royal pain in the fucking ass." 

"Nah. It takes only a few seconds." 

"Good. Then it won't be too much trouble if I hear a song that I like, and you save it to a playlist." 

Ronan smirked. 

Adam wanted to be angry. Ronan had played him. 

Adam couldn't be angry. Adam learned two things about himself that night: music can give him an emotional response, and he was entirely too affected by dark-haired boys with pale, blue eyes and long legs. 

"If you hear a song that you want saved, tell me. I'll save it." He might have a soft spot for Ronan, but he was still Adam Parrish. "On one condition." Ronan frowned. "Every song that I save, I get to ask you a question, _and_ you have to answer truthfully." 

"I never lie." 

"Okay. So, it's a deal, then." 

"I told you before – I'm not your science experiment." 

"I know you're not. Can you stop being a prick for one minute and see it from my point of view? This is – it's incredible! You died in 1987, and here we are talking. I might be going fishing in the morning with a guy who fought in the Civil War! Can't you see that I have questions?" 

Ronan met his eyes. "Save 'Pictures of You.'" He didn't look away when he added, "If it's not too much trouble." 

"It's not too much trouble, Ronan." 

Adam named the playlist, _'Ronan's mixtape_.' 

"Do you know why you're different than Noah?" 

"I don't know." 

"You don't know…" Adam studied Ronan. "Um. You don't know for certain, but you have ideas." 

"You only get one question." 

"That was a statement, not a question." 

The phone rang, startling both of them. No one ever called him. It was Gansey. 

Frowning, Adam answered. "Hey, Gansey." 

"Hey. How's it going?" 

"Good. Been busy. You?" 

"Same." 

A few seconds of awkward silence followed. Adam finally asked, "Is there, um, something that you wanted?" 

"I'm going to my parents' home for two weeks. I was hoping we could hang out when I get back. Maybe visit the psychics? And I've got my electromagnetic-frequency meter up and running – " 

"You're what?" 

"Electromagnetic-frequency meter. It monitors energy levels. I want to see what readings it gets around the Barns." 

"Yeah - sure, Gansey." 

"Fabulous, Adam. I'll contact you when I return. Have a great evening." Gansey's old Virginia accent always sounded richer when he was formal and polite. 

Adam pressed 'end.' Before Ronan complained, he put the music back on. 

"Why didn't you tell your friend about Noah and me? He seems to get a huge hard-on for this supernatural shit." 

"I signed an NDA." 

"Fuck, my brother." 

"Dictum meum pactum." ( _My word is bond._ )

Ronan grunted. 

"Why do you hate your brother so much?" Adam asked. 

"I don't remember asking for another song to be saved." 

"So, I can't ask any questions that aren't giving you something in return?" 

"The deal was your idea, Parrish, not mine." 

Adam huffed and settled back with his laptop. He had emails to send, but, first, he wanted to update his Facebook status about taking summer courses. He checked his newsfeed and saw Declan had been tagged in one of Matthew Lynch's photos. 

He got up to show Ronan the photo of Matthew with the new puppy that Matthew had bought Declan's son. 

"Matthew posted a new photo," Adam said, turning the laptop around so Ronan could see the screen. "From the comments, it seems Declan is not too happy about it." 

Ronan snorted a laugh. "Declan needs someone to pull that stick out of his ass." 

Adam even chuckled a bit. Declan did seem to be a bit too uptight. 

The song changed as Adam sat back down. Like 'Pictures of You,' the song caught his attention. 

_Show me, show me, show me how you do that trick_

_The one that makes me scream she said_

_The one that makes me laugh she said_

_Threw her arms around my neck_

_Show me how you do it and I'll promise you_

_I'll promise that I'll run away with you, I'll run away with you_

The music had a fast beat, and the lyrics sounded innocent and full of desire and promise. 

_Spinning on that dizzy edge_

_Kissed her face and kissed her head_

_Dreamed of all the different ways, I had to make her glow_

The love in the song sounded young and fresh. 

"Save please," Ronan said. "Question after the song."

_Why won't you ever know that I'm in love with you?_

_That I'm in love with you?_

_You, soft and only, you lost and lonely_

_You, strange as angels_

_Angel_. That was a hypothesis he hadn't considered. It's possible he wasn't teasing Noah. ' _Ronan is different than Noah because he's an angel and not a ghost.'_

Ronan opened an eye and caught Adam staring at him. He gave Adam the finger and closed his eyes again. 

Adam discounted his hypothesis immediately and came up with a new one – only half-jokingly. Barrington Whelk had been right that there was an entrance to hell here, and Ronan was one of its demons. 

_And found myself alone, alone, alone above a raging sea_

_That stole the only girl I loved and drowned her deep inside of me_

_You soft and only_

_You lost and lonely_

_You just like heaven_

"I hate my brother because he took the Barns away from me once, and now he's going to do it again." 

"How is…?" Adam stopped himself. Why waste his breath when he wasn't going to get an answer. "For what it's worth, I researched it, and this land is worth a lot more if Declan had razed the buildings and sold the property off in chunks. Instead, he's putting in money and effort into restoring it." 

Adam received only a grunt as a reply, which he was starting to guess was Ronan speak for _'I'm too cool to say that you might be right.'_

"That song…" Ronan said. "'Just Like Heaven' was released in the UK right before I died. I'd get these fucking killer tapes from a guy in NY who DJ'd at some Indie station. I was listening to it on my Walkman out in the field the night that I died. It's the last song that I remember." 

Adam waited for more. 

But no more unexpected, unsolicited, uncharacteristic disclosures came. Ronan had disappeared. 

Ronan Lynch was strange as an angel, indeed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Spotify playlist](https://open.spotify.com/playlist/2OxMjbHYbGJcMk4Cw1kzRu?si=fzVmSWOQQ9ik4WA9Y-ZiAQ)
> 
> The playlist will be updated with new music as chapters are posted.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNING: Ronan displays some biphobia. Brief mention of an abortion (that didn’t happen).

**_Strange as Angels_ **

**Chapter 5**

Adam placed six near twelve-inch rainbow trout on the kitchen counter. He couldn't believe his luck at the pond Noah had led him too. It was six nights of dinner - _free_ dinners.

He had just started to gut the fish when Noah came through the door with Ronan trailing behind him, looking extra sulky today.

The morning with Noah hadn't only been fruitful with fish; it had been fruitful with information. An excited Noah was a talkative Noah. Adam had found out a lot more about Noah and Ronan, some small details (Eating apples right off the tree was the thing that Noah missed the most about living) to important details (Ronan had a name for his 'heaven' – its name was Cabeswater).

Also, Adam had learned that Ronan could only be two places: the Barns and Cabeswater.

Noah pointed at the fish. "See, Ronan. See! I told you. Adam caught six fish!"

"I didn't give a fuck before I saw them," Ronan said. "I see them, and I still don't give a fuck."

"Adam, Ronan has an idea!"

"Yeah?" Adam asked.

"Yeah. Ronan thought that I could do things on your phone."

Adam laughed. "Things like play his music?"

Ronan shrugged slightly. "I thought it'd give you a break."

It felt confusing that this felt like a rejection by Ronan. It wasn't a rejection. And, even if it was, why would he care?

"Can I watch baseball on the phone?" Noah asked.

Ronan shoved Noah. "Jesus Christ in heaven! You're a broken record."

"Shut up, Ronan. If I help you see what you want, I get to see what I want too!"

Adam interrupted their arguing. "Instead of the phone, why don't we see if Noah can work the computer. I have to go out for a few things –"

"What things?" Ronan asked.

"Things. If he can –"

"What _things_?"

"Things that I need at the store. As I was saying –"

"What _things_ do you need at the store?"

Adam had had enough. "Ronan! Why are you interrogating me?"

"Because I thought maybe you wanted a grill to cook that fish on."

Adam sighed and shook his head. "Why didn't you simply ask me that?"

"Sorry." Ronan studied his nails. "No questions. I don't remember asking for a song to be saved."

"Honestly, Ronan, were you this difficult when you were alive?"

Before Adam had even completed the sentence, Noah was nodding his head.

Ronan ignored the question. "There's a grill in the small shed. Might be some charcoal too."

"No," Adam said. "There isn't."

"Maybe, you just didn't see it," Ronan said.

"I didn't see it either," Noah said.

"Shut up, dimwit. Your swiss cheese brain doesn't know jack shit."

Adam argued, "Ronan, I couldn't have missed it. The shed isn't that big."

"Neither's the grill," Ronan said. "Tabletop. Small. Easy to miss."

Ronan gave Noah a piercing, pointed look. Noah looked confused. Then his eyes widened. "Oh, yeah." He looked at Adam. "You know, maybe I did see something like that in there."

"Is this some sort of practical joke?" Adam looked back and forth between the ghosts. "Make me go out there and look to see how gullible I am?"

Ronan tilted his head, looking amused. "That's a really crappy idea of a practical joke, man. I'm bored, but I'm not fucking uncreative."

"Come on," Noah said. "I'll go look with you."

"No," Adam said. "I'll look."

The day before, after he'd finished cleaning up after the storm, he'd went to that shed and looked for the fishing gear. He'd found two rods, with near-perfect reels, and a tackle box filled with a variety of lures and anything else someone would need to go fishing. He'd poked around in the shed and saw a few lawn chairs, a plastic bucket, and some basic gardening tools.

He knew exactly what was in that shed.

And he was certain that there hadn't been a grill.

Yet, there was a grill.

Sitting on the same shelf that he'd found the tacklebox sat a small grill, the sort someone might take camping. Next to it was a silver can with a red flip top, the edges of it rusted. It looked like an old lighter fluid can, but it had no markings. Below the shelf was a bag of Kingsford charcoal. Except the bag said 'charcoal briquets' and it didn't have a modern look to it.

He inspected the charcoal bag. Something was off about it. There was no copyright. No instructions or warnings. Nothing at all was on the back of the bag.

He pulled his phone from the pocket of his cargo shorts and searched for 'Kingsford charcoal.' He found a bag on the company's website history section that looked something like the bag in front of him, but not exactly.

He took only the grill back with him, leaving it on the porch. Back in the kitchen, Ronan stopped chewing at the bands on his wrist to say, "No need to apologize."

"I had no intention of apologizing." Adam tapped the table in front of Ronan with his index finger. "What's going on, Ronan? I'm not stupid. I'm not losing my mind. That stuff was not there this morning. Did you lie to me about not being able to move things?"

"I told you – I don't lie."

"Everyone lies."

"Not me."

"Bullshit," Adam said.

"I'm not going to repeat myself again. I don't fucking lie."

"Okay. You don't lie. But that stuff out there didn't appear out of thin air! Someone put it there. If it wasn't you – and I know it wasn't Noah because he was with me the whole time – wait, where is Noah?"

"He went out looking for you."

"I didn't see him."

"He flaked again, then," Ronan said. Adam thought he saw a flash of worry on his face.

"Does he usually flake this often?"

"I don't know. I don't keep track. But – fuck you, no questions without a song!"

"Hey, Adam!" Noah appeared a few feet away. "I was just on my way to check on you."

Adam and Ronan exchanged a look.

"I'm back. You were right. The grill is there." Adam didn't see the need to show Noah his frustration. Noah leaving and having these incidents concerned Adam. "Come on, Noah. Let me show you how to work the computer."

~ ~ ~

Like every other small town in America, Downtown Henrietta showed its patriotism leading up to July 4th by covering as much of the town as it could in red, white, and blue.

Adam drove under the triangle flags strung high over Main Street, looking for his father's truck. He circled the street near the grocery store twice just to be sure before he parked and went in. He hurried through picking up the things on his list. While standing in line, he thought about the fresh corn on the cob he'd walked by in the produce section. He performed a quick calculation in his head and concluded that he could buy three with the savings he'd banked from not having to buy six nights of dinner and still have money left over.

He got out of line.

At the large bins filled with corn, he picked one up, but a woman standing across from him said, "Not that one. See, the tassels are black. It's not fresh." She picked up one and held it out towards him. "See, the husk – bright green and touch the tassels." He touched them. "Sticky, right?" He nodded. "Good. It's fresh."

She handed him the corn. He held it up in a salute. "Thanks."

He studied the corn and reached over for one that looked fresh when he felt someone brush up against him. He turned to see a strong looking, impressive woman with deep purple lipstick. She glared at him like he had been the one to run into her.

Next to her, a woman with a mass of white-blonde hair that practically reached her knees said, in a small tiny voice, "Be kind, Calla."

Calla replied, "I told you he didn't know anything important yet."

The women who'd helped him with the corn joined the two women, and they walked away. He heard her say, "No one said that he did."

Adam watched them walk out. By the time he got back to the Barns, where he'd found Noah at the kitchen table staring intently at the laptop screen and the sounds of a baseball game filling the room, he'd forgotten about the strange women.

"Where's Ronan?" Adam asked, dropping the bags on the table.

Without taking his eyes off the screen, Noah replied, "First, he found out Johnny Ramone was a Republican. Then he found out he's dead. He stormed out. He likes to do his sulking outside."

Laughing, Adam went outside to get the grill ready. He placed it on the ground several feet away from the house, and sat on one of the lawn chairs that he had taken from the shed. A chair that he absolutely knew had not materialized out of thin air.

Ronan showed up as he was putting the trout on the grill. He sat down in the dirt, with his feet together and knees spread wide, hugging his calves.

"Ronan, can we please talk about the grill. I –"

"Stop with the goddamn grill!"

Adam was growing tired of Ronan's mysterious, dark, and handsome act.

Well, the mysterious part, at least.

He stared at Ronan until Ronan broke and started ranting. "I mean – what the fuck – I've been here for almost thirty-two years. No one except Noah could see me. Not even those witches who trespass around here. You show –"

"What witches? What do they do?"

"I don't fucking know. Witches from in town and they do witchy-stuff. As I was saying, you show up, and _you_ can fucking see me. Do you know how many times I tried to get Declan to see me – well, the times he bothered to come out here? And Matthew… I thought… You shouldn't have been the one to see me. I know you've got questions, but so the fuck do I. I have so many fucking questions!" He shook his head and looked down between his knees. "We can't answer them. So, let it the fuck go."

"I don't accept that. It's a problem. Problems can be solved. I can solve it."

Ronan tried to kick a rock, but his boot went through it. He put his forehead on his knees and let out a loud, frustrated groan. "Fuck. You'd have to be a magician to solve my problems, Parrish."

"I can't solve anything until I have all the information. I know secrets when I see them, Ronan. And you're filled with them."

Ronan put his hands together in prayer. "Bless me, father, for I am a sinner, born with original sin and filled with secrets."

"Is Cabeswater one of those secrets?"

"Damn Czerny! Cabeswater is – is none of your business. Don't start poking around about it."

"Like you said, Ronan. I can see you when others can't. Maybe, it is _my_ business."

"Why? What's the fucking point? You can't fix things. What are you gonna do – bring me back to life?"

"Ronan, I…"

 _'I what?'_ he thought. He couldn't bring Ronan back from the dead.

He flipped the fish over and said, "Maybe I could help Declan and Matthew see you?"

"And then what? They come here twice a year to tell me about their lives that I can't be a part of. Then I watch them die, while I'm still here, the same – never changing – never fucking changing - never leaving the Barns. Is that fixing the problem?"

"No."

"And you're going to leave to go Harvard. And Declan is going to sell this house to strangers. And I'll never see you again."

Adam hadn't considered that. What would he do after he left? Would he just forget Ronan? Would he come back to visit him? Sneak around to get in here or show up with some lie for access to the property?

"This is my fate," Ronan said. "I've accepted it. You should too." He paused and looked up at Adam with pale blue eyes through those impossibly thick black lashes. "Then you'll stop with that –" He waved his hand in front of Adam's face. "With that serious, over-thinking-every-damn-thing face. It's annoying me."

Adam laughed. "Everything I do annoys you."

"That fish annoys me."

"I'm sorry. Do you miss eating?"

He pointed at the fish. "Not that gross crap. Give me a big, fat, juicy steak."

"I've never had steak."

"Fuck. You are really poor, man."

"Yep. So poor my mother couldn't afford the abortion she wanted."

Ronan looked shocked. "Jesus Christ, fuck, Mary, and Joseph, Parrish. That's some fucking dark shit." He grinned. "Might turn you into a punk yet."

~ ~ ~

Ronan and Noah were obsessed with the internet. Ronan's playlist had grown until it reached well over two hundred songs, and Noah knew all the player stats for the minor league baseball team a town over called the Bluefield Blue Jays.

Adam was thankful for anything to keep Ronan distracted as the contractors ripped apart the bathrooms.

Noah had disappeared on and off several times. Once he came back and couldn't remember who Adam was or anything that had happened between them. He'd been gone for two days after that.

But he was back now and in front of the computer with Ronan, arguing like they often did.

"Stop clicking that!" Ronan yelled.

"I'm not clicking it," Noah said, always the calm to Ronan's storm.

"You're clicking it! I'm fucking watching you click it!"

Adam stood on a ladder on the back porch, changing one of the recessed lights, listening to them inside arguing like he imagined brothers would.

He started laughing when Celine Dion's _My Heart Will Go On_ began playing, making Ronan shout out a string of curses that sent all the nearby birds flying out of the trees.

"No! Not like that. That's not how Adam showed us how to do it."

Adam felt a tug at his heart at Ronan's use of his name. And he had the same conversation he had to have with himself a few times a day.

_'It's only a natural reaction to receiving attention from someone attractive.'_

_'But Noah was attractive too - in more of a nice-boy-next-door way, but still attractive – and your insides don't turn to jelly when you think about his forearms.'_

Adam finished up on the porch and washed up at the sink. Ronan and Noah were pushing each other and arguing over the song Noah had put on.

_The kid don't play_

_If there was a problem_

_Yo, I'll solve it_

_Check out the hook while my DJ revolves it_

"Parrish, you've shown a hint of promise that your taste in music might not be completely horrible. Will you help me out here and shut off this godawful sound?"

_Ice ice baby Vanilla_

_Ice ice baby Vanilla_

_Ice ice baby Vanilla_

_Ice ice baby Vanilla_

"Fine – fine," Noah said, rolling his eyes. He turned off the music. "I don't know what's wrong with it? It makes people want to dance."

"Do I look like I fucking want to dance, asshole?"

"Don't let him fool you, Adam," Noah said. "There was a time that Ronan used to _love_ to dance around his room."

"Shut up, man."

"He got his first Walkman and would put the headphones and dance around singing in his room."

"I'm going to murder you," Ronan growled.

Noah waggled his eyebrows and started singing and dancing around the kitchen.

_I know what boys like_

_I know what guys want_

_I see them looking_

Ronan looked shocked at first, like he was trying to process that it was actually happening.

_I make them want me_

_I like to tease them_

_They want to touch me_

_I never let them_

Then he looked positively homicidal. "I'm going to send you back to hell, you fucking demon!" He jerked forward as if he would chase Noah, and Noah ran through the door, still singing.

_I know what boys like_

_I know what guys want_

_I know what boys like_

_Boys like, boys like me_

Ronan looked at the computer and frowned. Without Noah he couldn't do anything. Adam tapped his fingers against his leg while he thought of how to phrase what he was about to say.

Ronan rolled his head back, eyes rolling back in his head. "Spit it out, Parrish! Christ."

"Things have changed a lot since 1987."

"No shit, Sherlock."

"I'm talking about for gay, trans, and queer people."

"I know that," Ronan said, sharply.

"You know what?"

"I'm gay, brainiac. When I stopped living, fucking AIDs was my goddamn worst nightmare. You think I didn't have Noah look up how that worked out the first chance I got?"

Adam felt embarrassed. He'd thought that Ronan would've felt ashamed for being gay.

"Right. So, you know that same-sex couples can get married?"

"Yeah – yeah." Ronan waved his hand around. "I read all about the agenda to fit queers into some heteronormative boring bullshit – marriage, kids, a white picket fence." He made a disgusted sound to go along with his disgusted expression. "And, now gays can admit that they suck dick and go fight and die for the same country they have to beg for basic human rights. Fuck that shit."

"Well, I think it's a bit more than just that."

"How the fuck do you know anything about it, Parrish?"

"Because I'm bisexual."

"Right. So, you fuck the guy and marry the chick?"

"Fuck off, Ronan!" 

Like everything that surrounded Ronan Lynch this was not the way he'd thought this conversation would go.

Adam tried to leave, but Ronan stood up and blocked his way. They both knew that it was pointless. Adam could walk right through him.

Swaying back and forth, from foot to foot, Ronan struggled for what to say. Adam had no intention of helping him out. He stood there, his arms folded across his chest, staring at Ronan as Ronan looked everywhere but at him.

Ronan muttered a few curses under his breath before he said, "I didn't… I don't know you. I don't know what the fuck you'd do. I shouldn't have… you know, assumed that's what you would do."

Ronan's attitude and beliefs about this were rooted in the time that he'd lived and died. Even if things were changing in big cities like New York and Chicago, Ronan lived in a rural town, filled with religion and fear of anyone different. His feelings on it all had to be deep and complicated.

Thinking this might be a long conversation, Adam sat down. "There’s a lot on the internet about biphobia. Have Noah look that up too.”

Ronan started to pace. "I read all this damn queercore lit. All this acceptance crap feels more like conformity."

"That's just about everything, though, isn't it? Try getting a job as a financial analyst on Wall Street with purple hair and a nose ring." Adam shrugged. "Everyone is expected to conform to our culture's standards. At least the cultural standard has grown a little to include queers and queer couples."

"Fuck that! We don't owe those motherfuckers some big thank you because they finally decided that we have the right to exist!"

"I didn't _say_ that," Adam said firmly. "I don't _think_ that we do owe them anything. But I'm not going to tell them to take away the rights that we've gotten just because we shouldn't have had to ask for them in the first place. Are you saying you would never get married?"

“I don’t know! I just found out a few days ago that it was an option. I’m just saying - I don't need anyone's permission to live my life the way…" He realized what he'd said – _my life_. "You know what the fuck I mean!"

"Everyone's not brave like you, Ronan."

"It’s not brave, it’s not wanting to be controlled - like you are."

"What does that mean?"

Ronan finally sat down. Looking cocky, he said, "It means Aglionby – Harvard – kissing my brother's ass."

"I'm sorry, Ronan Lynch, that we all don't get to be individualists, exploring our uniqueness, while living off our Daddy's money."

Instead of angry, Ronan looked challenged. "You're telling me, Parrish, that you're _not_ planning to do whatever it takes to fit into that Harvard world you're running off to?"

"I plan on succeeding, yes. And that will mean attempting to fit in."

"So, you'll be whatever they want you to be, not who _you_ are."

That was _who_ Adam was. Adam was the poor boy doing whatever it took to succeed – to be respected.

"No one is controlling me. _I_ control my life, and I want to be more than just this."

"I'm not talking about the fucking shit you were born into, man. I'm talking about who _you_ are. What _you_ want."

"You don't get it, Ronan. You got to be free to figure out who you were because you never had to worry about money."

"I had fucking worries, asshole, like you could never understand."

"I didn't say that you didn't. But you didn't have to worry about money. If you wanted to travel, you could travel. If you wanted to race cars, you could buy a race car. I don't have that privilege. I have nothing and no one. I have to survive on my own. If I want to travel, I have to make money to travel. If I get a job that needs a car, I'll need to get another job to be able to buy the car. I don't get to be who I want to be without working for it first."

Adam took a deep breath and continued, "I want to be a doctor. That's not what anyone is telling me to be. I'm not conforming. That's what I want."

"And you'll do whatever it takes."

"Yes, Ronan, I will. I won't let you make me feel bad for that."

"Even if that means pretending that you aren't into guys."

Honestly, Adam had never consciously thought about it. He hadn't ever thought about a romantic life and how it would fit into his academic or career plans. He never thought he'd really prioritize dating at all. But that wasn't the question – was it?

"No," Adam said. "If I was in a relationship with a guy, I would never hide that."

"You mean if you were in a relationship with a guy that fits in with fucking snooty, know-it-all intellectuals. _Not_ someone who, hypothetically, is like me."

"Hypothetically?"

"Hypothetically."

"Hypothetically, introducing an invisible dead guy to my hypothetical fucking snooty, know-it-all intellectual friends would be hypothetically very awkward."

Adam grinned. Ronan even let his lips twitch a little as he breathed, "Asshole."

"Anyway…" Adam got up. He had things to do. "Dating isn't really in my plan."

"Whatever, Parrish. Turn some music on for me, and I don't give a fuck what you do."

"Oh, I think you will. I'm picking up the parts I need to get started on the BMW. You can throw all the fits you want, Ronan, but it has to be done, and I thought we could -"

A car pulling up outside distracted him.

He hadn't been expecting anyone today. Outside the kitchen window, he saw Declan's light gray BMW SUV pull up.

Adam walked out to the porch. Ronan followed.

Declan got out the driver's seat, calling out a greeting to Adam. Opposite him, Matthew Lynch stepped out of the car. He opened the back seat, and chaos flew out the door.

Literally, his name was Chaos.

Adam recognized the puppy immediately from the photos on Facebook, though he'd grown a lot in the last few weeks. He bounced around Matthew on paws that looked too big for his body. His black ears flopping around as he barked and nipped at Matthew's big hands.

Quinn Lynch, who had also grown into a tall, lanky teenager since the photos, rushed out from the backseat, calling to the dog, "Chaos! Stop it! Come here!" But the puppy seemed to think this was a game and took off around the side of the house. Quinn and Matthew, both yelling the dog's name, ran after him.

Declan yelled, "Christ, Matthew, what did you think would happen if you let him out without a leash?"

Looking amused, Ronan stepped off the porch to watch them.

"Hey, Adam," Declan said, shaking Adam's hand. "Sorry for the craziness. I've found a place in Henrietta for my son, and we were –" Matthew and Quinn appeared again. Quinn held a panting Chaos in his arms. "Put him back in the car! I left the air on for him. No! You're not getting in the car with him. Come introduce yourself to Mr. Parrish."

Adam laughed. He was only a few years older than Quinn Lynch, and hardly ready to be referred to as a 'Mister' by anyone. "Adam – not Mr. Parrish," he said.

Quinn extended a hand with nails painted black. "I'm Quinn."

The boy looked like his father, except for a smaller nose and hair that had a silver streak in front that kept falling into his face. He had also inherited his uncle's pissed-off-at-the-world expression, which was different than Declan's expression that said he wanted to control it.

Matthew's boyish blond curls that somehow still looked right on his middle-aged face shook along with his hand as he said hello to Adam. "Nice to meet you, Adam."

Adam found himself matching Matthew's smile as if it were impossible not to. Matthew smelled like he looked too – sweet like he'd just been eating candy.

Declan clasped Adam on the shoulder. "We were on our way back to Richmond and wanted to stop by to see how things were going. Any problems?"

Adam resisted the urge to look at Ronan standing there watching the scene. "No. No problems at all. Things are good."

"Are you sure? Nothing unusual pop up that might need my help?"

"Really. Everything's been going great. A lot of quiet time to work on my coursework."

Quinn had pulled out his phone to play with it, and Declan ripped it from his hands. "Hey!" Quinn yelped. "Give that back. It's mine!"

"Who pays for it?" Declan asked. "No music, right now. It's rude."

Quinn crossed his arms and leaned against the car. His hair had fallen into his face again, and he let it stay there. His sulking abilities were as impressive as Ronan's.

Declan turned to Adam. "I'm going to take a look at the progress in the bathrooms."

Everyone went inside. Declan didn't ask Adam to go upstairs with him, so he didn't. Matthew and Quinn disappeared into the living room, with Ronan following them. Adam wasn't sure what to do. This was their family home; he was an intruder in it. So, he pretended to be busy, putting things away. When that began to feel awkward too, he casually strolled into the living room.

Quinn sat on the floor, flipping through the albums. Next to him sat Ronan, watching his nephew. Matthew was looking out the window. Adam couldn't see his face.

"Hey," Adam said.

Matthew didn't seem to hear him, but Quinn looked up. "Hey. Are these yours?"

"No. I found those in the attic."

"So, they're ours?"

Adam nodded.

"Cool."

Quinn started pulling albums out and stacking them in a pile. Ronan looked up and said, "Kid's got good taste. He got that from me."

It occurred to Adam that Ronan looked closer in age to Quinn than he did his brothers. Even though Ronan had been born over fifty years ago, he'd remained physically eighteen.

Quinn saw Declan before Adam did. "Hey, Dad, Adam said I could have these."

In an instant, panic exploded in Adam's stomach with the fear that he'd be blamed for something that he didn't do.

Declan quickly squashed it. "I heard the conversation, Quinn. Adam said no such thing."

Quinn shrugged and went back to flicking through the albums. Adam noted that he was picking out a lot that were Ronan's favorites. The look on Ronan's face indicated that he didn't mind at all.

"Things have really progressed up there," Declan said, looking at Matthew by the window and sounding distracted. "Quinn, we're going. We've got a long ride. You need to walk the dog first."

Quinn didn't stop looking at the albums. Declan moved closer. "Hey, I said we're going." Quinn still didn't move. "Now, Quinn! I'm not going to tell you again."

"And what are you going to do?" Quinn yelled. "Make me stay here!" He grabbed the two dozen or so albums, and stood, yelling, "You're making me move to this redneck backwoods hellhole full of mouth-breathers and go to school with a bunch of boring, rich, privileged dickfaces! What more punishment can you instill upon me, father?"

Pointing a finger at his son, Declan said, "Calling this town, 'a redneck backwoods hellhole full of mouth-breathers,' shows just how rich and privileged you are, _son_. And saying it in front of someone from this town indicates that you are, in fact, a dickface too."

Hugging the albums to his chest, Quinn lowered his head and mumbled, "Sorry." He sulked out of the room.

"Adam, I'm –"

"Don't – please." Adam cut Declan off as politely and professionally as he could. Adam knew Quinn was only a kid, but it didn't sting any less. It was another reminder of how people like the Lynches really thought of him. He was used to being nice to people who considered him beneath them. "It's okay."

"No," Declan said. "It's not okay. My son is… well, he can be an asshole, but he didn't mean it."

Adam smiled and nodded to make Declan feel better. Like a good poor boy.

After the living and breathing Lynches left, Adam wasn't in the mood to talk to anyone or deal with Ronan's moods. He grabbed his laptop and retreated to his bedroom to work on an assignment, only coming out for something to eat after it had gotten dark.

The house was quiet. He flicked on the porch light and saw Ronan sitting on the top step, shaking his right leg, and staring out into the darkness. Adam reached to flick off the light, planning to go back to bed. But looking at Ronan sitting there, with his bad attitude and stupid hair, Adam felt a rush of annoyance.

He stepped out on the porch, letting the screen door slam. He stood beside Ronan and leaned against the railing.

Ronan said, "You done sulking?"

"You're one to talk."

He glanced at Ronan, who was a second too late in glancing away. Adam had caught Ronan looking at him a lot lately. Usually, it made something warm bloom in his chest. This time it just made him more annoyed. Everything was annoying him – the still air, the crickets, Ronan Lynch's stupid mohawk, the fireworks going off in the distance.

Ronan made an annoyed sound. "It's only the third, and these assholes have been shooting off fireworks all night."

"Going to rain tomorrow," Adam said sharply.

"What's got your boxers in a bunch?" Ronan asked. "It's not what Declan's evil spawn said, is it? 'Cos he's just some stupid kid pissed off at his father."

Adam continued staring off in the distance.

Ronan added, "I thought you'd understand about being pissed off at your father."

Adam huffed out a laugh. "Are you saying that your nephew's anger at his father making him attend an elite school where he'll get a first-rate education – the same school that I worked my ass off to pay for – is the same as what my father did to me?"

"No, Parrish. I'm not. But knowing my family, the kid’s pissed off about more than just that"

The fireworks off in the distance reached their peak explosions and then stopped.

Adam waited until it quieted, then he asked, "Were you pissed off at your father?"

Ronan sighed. Adam had banked several questions because of their deal, and he was ready to remind Ronan of that, but Ronan replied without a fight. "I thought he walked on water when he was alive." He paused, grunted, and finished, "Then I didn't."

"Was he the reason you were born filled with secrets?"

"Parrish, I used to think that I could fly if I hadn't been."

"Did those secrets get him and you killed?"

It took a few minutes for Ronan to answer. "Him – yes. Me… I don't know."

While Adam was thinking of what to ask next, Ronan said, "Adam…"

"Yeah?"

"Tell me one of your secrets."

He sat on the step next to Ronan. Fireworks had started up again, sending red, white, and blue sparks raining down onto the horizon. He Liked the ones that exploded with one color and then a different color came bursting out of the middle.

"Today's my birthday," he said.

"Get the fuck out of here!"

"Yep."

"Well, happy fucking birthday, Adam Parrish."

~ ~ ~

Adam turned the electromagnetic-frequency meter over in his hand. "People use this to find ley lines?" he asked, putting the device down on the kitchen table between him and Gansey.

Gansey said, "There's been some success locating lines with this, yes. It's mainly used by ghost hunters."

"Oh!" Noah exclaimed. He floated around to Adam's side. "Do they hunt ghosts to kill them?"

"You're already dead, nimrod," Ronan said.

Adam leaned over and looked at the meter. The arrow was at the far left.

Gansey continued, "It took me quite some time to get it tuned to the average levels of energy in the area. The equations are very complex. I would have asked you for help - you're much better at math than I am – but I know you have a job and school. I didn't want to distract you."

"No – no. This is really interesting," Adam said. From the corner of the room, Ronan made a gagging noise. "I'd like to see your equations."

"They're right here," Gansey said, opening his journal and sliding it over to Adam.

"These were the number of observations?" Gansey nodded. "And the standard deviation?"

"Fucking nerds… for the love of all that is holy, shut up, and let's light that fucker up!" Ronan shouted.

Adam gave him a sharp look.

"This is what's really interesting -" Gansey said.

The rest of Gansey's sentence got drowned out by Ronan. "Let's get this show on the road! I want to see the motherfucking July 4th light show when he turns that thing on with Noah and me in the room."

Adam tapped the device. "I'm sorry it's raining, and you won't get to survey the property with it."

The rain had started early in the morning, and the forecast called for rain for two says; so, it had surprised Adam that Gansey still wanted to come over.

"No worries," Gansey said, picking up the machine. "I can show you how it works in here – oh my god."

Gansey had turned it on. Immediately, the arrow whizzed all the way to the right, while the red lights on the top blinked.

The machine had lit up like a Christmas tree, and so had Gansey's face.

"That's what I'm talking about!" Ronan said, approaching the table. "Look at that fucker! Lit up like the fireworks we watched last night, Parrish."

"You and Adam…" Noah pointed to the two of them. "Watched fireworks together last night?"

Ronan told him to shut up.

Gansey adjusted a knob on the side of the machine, and it began to emit a high-pitched sound.

"Adam," Gansey said, "do you know what this means?"

"It means the house is haunted…." Ronan said in a mock scary voice, waving his hands near Gansey's face.

"Maybe it's…" Adam didn't know if he wanted Gansey to work this out or not. He'd signed the NDA. He had Declan's trust. He also wanted – and needed - to understand this strange world that he'd walked into. "Could it be broken?"

"It could be, but I've tested it thoroughly." He stood up and walked into the hallway. Adam heard the tone of the machine get deeper and softer. Adam knew when Gansey was coming back by the sound of the device getting more excited.

"It's a ghost," Gansey said. "For certain. And it's in this room." He looked around. "With us. Right here. Adam, why don't you look surprised? Do you think the machine doesn't work?"

"I think it works, Gansey."

"Then, why… oh." Gansey shut it off and sat down. "You already knew there was a ghost here."

Adam met Gansey's eyes. "I signed an NDA."

Ronan groaned. "Ass-kisser."

"I understand."

Gansey absent-mindedly rubbed his bottom lip with his thumb. He squinted and looked around the room.

Noah whispered, "Adam, should I leave? Am I going to get you in trouble?"

Adam put up his hand and shook his head slightly.

Gansey had tracked his movements. "You can see it! You can see the ghost!" Gansey slapped the table with both palms. "I want to see the ghost too."

Gansey had been born to lead. Adam had watched students flock to him, hanging on his every word. His usual voice commanded respect, but this voice carried something different in it. A flash of energy had filled the room. He felt like the air when a lightning storm was right over head. The power in his voice made it feel like a tuning fork had tapped against Adam's bones.

"I think he can see me," Noah whispered while Gansey stared right at him.

"I can see you," Gansey confirmed, standing up.

Ronan moved next to Noah. Gansey didn't react. Adam was still the only person who could see Ronan.

"I'm Noah Czerny."

"I'm Richard Gansey the third, but you can call me Gansey."

"That was cool what your machine did," Noah said.

Gansey sat down, looking dazed. "This is… Adam, this is incredible."

"I thought you've seen ghosts before?" Adam asked.

"Yes. I have, but not conscious like Noah. Usually, they don't interact with the living like this. They only replay scenes from their life, or they repeat the moments of their death over and over."

"I do that too sometimes too," Noah said.

Adam gave Ronan a look, silently asking, _'Do you want him to know about you?'_

Biting the corner of his bottom lip, Ronan gave his answer with a slight shake of his head.

"Noah and I have been getting to know each other," Adam said, turning back to Gansey. "We even went fishing the other day."

Gansey's mouth formed an 'O,' but no sound came out.

"Do you like baseball, Gansey?" Noah asked.

"Um… yes. I do. I've played a little."

Noah grinned eagerly. "Maybe we can play a little someday? I can't hold the bat, but I can throw the ball just fine."

"You can…?" Gansey looked at Adam. "He can interact with things?"

Adam and Noah both nodded.

"There's a ley line here. There has to be!"

"Told ya," Ronan said. "Dick here is getting a hard-on over this shit."

"Noah, is it okay if I ask you some questions?" Gansey asked.

"Yes," Noah said, looking as delighted as Gansey.

Gansey shoved his hand in his pocket, took out a mint leave, and put it into his mouth. "I don't know where to begin. I have so many questions for you, Noah. About your life in the 1800s, the civil war, how you can touch things, what are your limits?"

They started with how and when Noah died. Gansey listened intently, politely interrupting when he had a question.

"Do you remember when you lost the ability to travel far away from the Barns?" Gansey asked.

Noah shrugged. "Sorry."

"It started about seven years ago," Ronan said. When Noah and Adam looked his way, he bowed. "You're welcome."

Noah said, "Oh, I remember now! It was about seven years ago."

"Interesting- interesting," Gansey said.

Gansey probed Noah for information for over an hour, while Noah beamed under the attention. Adam wasn't always sure why Gansey asked some of the questions that he did, but Gansey seemed to find them important as he jotted the answers down in his journal feverishly.

Ronan got bored and left a few times, only to return not long after. Adam suspected that he was afraid he'd miss something. When Noah finally started to fade, he was lying on the floor with his feet up on the faded floral wall under an old wall-mounted yellow phone.

"Squash one – squash two…" It was Noah who started singing the song, not Ronan.

Singing loudly, he headed towards the backdoor, fading out before he could reach it.

"It's amazing. Truly amazing." Gansey said, putting another mint leaf in his mouth. 

"What's your theory?" Adam asked.

"A really powerful ley line."

"Is that unusual?"

"It's very rare. There are others, mostly connected by ancient sites - Seven Wonders of the World type of artifacts."

"Why does he fade out more often and can’t go into town anymore?" Adam asked.

"The line could be fractured in one or more places. Or…" Gansey tapped his finger against his chin.

"Or…?"

"Or something is draining it."

"What kind of something?"

"Something strong, something powerful, something big, something –"

Adam looked at Ronan and breathed, "Something impossible."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Spotify playlist](https://open.spotify.com/playlist/2OxMjbHYbGJcMk4Cw1kzRu?si=fzVmSWOQQ9ik4WA9Y-ZiAQ)
> 
> The playlist will be updated with new music as chapters are posted


	6. Chapter 6

**_Strange as Angels_ **

**Chapter 6**

Something loud crashed in the kitchen. Adam put his laptop on the end of the bed and stood up. He couldn't sleep and was editing his first paper. As he reached the door, something hard banged against it. He turned the doorknob. Whatever that something was behind the door howled.

"Adam, don't come out!"

"Ronan? Ronan, what's wrong? What is it?"

"Lock the door!"

Whatever was on the other side of the door started scratching violently at it.

"Ronan! Ronan!"

Ronan walked through the door and a bit through Adam too.

"I'm here."

"What's going on?" Adam asked frantically.

"Lock the door," Ronan said. "I don't think the dumb bastard is smart enough to use a doorknob but better safe than sorry."

Adam locked it. The scratching got more frantic.

 _'Ronan looks scared,'_ Adam thought. His panic tripled. "What is that? What's happening?"

"There's no time to explain. That thing out there knows you're in here now, and it wants to kill you."

"It wants to kill _me_?"

"Adam, I need you to calm down."

"I am calm. Trust me. I want to freak out a lot more than I am. Tell me what that thing is?"

"The inside of my head."

"This is not time for your – Ronan!" Three long shiny sliver claws had come through the door. They retracted with a long howl.

"You need to trust me," Ronan said. "I'm going to do something right now, and you need to not get caught up in your heard questioning it, just roll with it."

The claws breached the door again. Adam didn't know what that thing was, but he knew that it would be inside the room soon.

He nodded.

Ronan laid down on the bed. Like Adam had seen him do before, he closed his eyes and disappeared. Adam tried not to panic. More of the beast came through the door. A huge, thick paw – no, it was more like a fur-covered hand. He looked franticly around the room for a weapon. There was nothing. He called out for Ronan.

A hoof came through the bottom of the door just as Ronan appeared back on the bed. He stood up. On the bed was a shotgun.

"Don't stare at it!" Ronan yelled. "Use it!"

Red eyes looked at Adam through the door. The thing had a beak and a mouth. The mouth smirked and showed its dozens of tiny, silver needle-sharp teeth.

Adam grabbed the shotgun and fired at the door. The recoil sent him stumbling backward. The creature was still growling. He fired again. Then again. Finally, he heard a thump, followed by silence.

He opened what was left of the door. The impossible beast laid unmoving on the floor. Adam poked it with the barrel of the shotgun. Thick black blood oozed from the bullet wounds. It seemed dead. But how would he know? This thing wasn't natural.

"Guess I've got to tell you my secrets now," Ronan said.

Adam wheeled around. "One of your secrets just tried to eat me!" He realized that he was holding a gun and dropped it on the bed. "This materialized out of thin air. How?"

"I took it out of my dreams."

"You took it out of your dreams," Adam repeated, trying to turn the statement into a fact.

He said it in his mind again.

And again.

"Hey, don't get skeptical on me now, brainiac," Ronan said.

"How do you dream? Your dead!"

"I don't know what to call it now! It used to be my dreams. Now, it's easier to slip between here and there – I don't know, maybe, because I don't have a body. Don't know."

"What can you –"

"Sky's the limit."

"That creature…? That came from your dream too?"

Ronan rubbed the back of his neck. "Bad dream. Sorry, man. That hasn't happened in years. I would never do anything -"

"Oh my god." He looked at the huge body of the creature, the black blood on the wall, the destroyed door. "I have to clean this up! The electrician is coming," he looked at his watch, "four hours. What if Declan shows up?"

"Call your friend to help," Ronan said.

"Who?"

"Your friend – you know, Gansey."

"No," Adam said, shaking his head. He was still trying to process what Ronan had told him. He didn't know how to help Gansey process it too. Besides, he didn't know how much he could trust Gansey yet.

"Don't be fucking stubborn, Parrish. You can't carry that thing on your own!"

"I can deal with this."

Adam grabbed his sneakers.

"Where are you going?" Ronan asked.

"To get the chainsaw."

"What the fuck? I mean, that's badass, but it'll cause much more of a mess."

"What else can I… oh. Can you, um, dream me something? Can you do it again so quickly?"

Ronan nodded. "Yeah."

"Dream me a mat or a carpet, something that I can put that thing on – and can you make it float?"

"Whatever you wish, Parrish."

~ ~ ~

_20, 20, 20, 4, hours to go  
_ _I wanna be sedated  
_ _Nothing to do, nowhere to go, oh  
_ _I wanna be sedated  
_ _Just, get me to the airport, put me on a plane  
_ _Hurry, hurry, hurry, before I go insane_  
_I can't control my fingers, I can't control my brain._

Adam ducked out from under the hood of the BMW and wiped his hands on his blue work overalls before turning the music down.

"What the fuck?" Ronan glared at him from the loft. "Turn it back up."

"I can't think," Adam said.

Ronan opened his mouth to argue, but shut it quickly as if he'd remembered that it was his nightmare demon that had Adam so exhausted today.

"So, back in 1987, you were dreaming in Cabeswater, and you came back and couldn't get into your body?"

"I couldn't even find my body, man. Poof!" Ronan made an explosion gesture with his bands. "Gone."

"And that never happened before."

Ronan shook his head. "I would sort of hover over my body for a few minutes before I woke up."

"And you were aware of what was going?"

"Yeah."

"You looked for your body?"

"No," Ronan said with sarcasm. 

"Um…" Adam stuck his head back under the hood and started removing the rusted spark plugs. "Let me see if I've got the background straight. Your dad was a dreamer too. Your mother wasn't. Neither are your brothers." He threw a spark plug on the ground and started on another. "Cabeswater is some magical dream forest where you create things." He twisted his head to look at Ronan. "Was it always there, or is it something you created in your dreams?"

Ronan stopped swinging his feet and frowned. "Well, fuck. I don't know."

"Your father didn't tell you anything about this gift or help you try to work it all out?"

"Jack shit."

Adam asked, "What rules are there?"

"Rules?"

He held the last spark plug in his hand and straightened up. "Rules – limits. Things you can't do?"

"Cabeswater sometimes feels like it's running out of gas, and I have to put on the brakes. Before you ask, yes, it's changed in the last several years. Yes, I'm starting to think it's tied to the ley line."

"Anything else?"

"Yeah. When a dreamer dies, his dreams... they stop."

"You mean if the dreamer brings out something animated and the dreamer dies than it stops – for lack of a better word – working?"

Ronan wasn't looking at him anymore. He stared at a point on the floor beneath him. He shrugged.

Adam grabbed the new spark plugs and, while he put them in, he considered what that meant.

"You know this because of your dad?" he asked.

"Yeah."

"What stopped working when your dad died?"

It took a few minutes for Ronan to respond. "Adam… I can't."

"Okay," Adam said, getting it, and glad that he couldn't see Ronan's face right now. His voice, filled with pain, was enough. He was too tired to dissect it now. He'd think about it later.

If this dreaming worked like Ronan said that it did, and a dreamer's creations stopped working after they died then… Adam stood up without thinking and banged his head on the hood. He cursed and rubbed at it.

"I started to think that maybe you were different because of your gift. Perhaps you couldn't really die in the natural sense. But your father didn't – I mean he's gone, right?" Ronan nodded. "And you're here. And you can bring the product of your dreams into the living world."

Ronan jumped down from the loft. "You're getting warmer."

"Am I…?" Adam brushed the hair away from his forehead. "Am I crazy for thinking you're not dead – dead. But…" He was working this out as he spoke. "But… wait - I forgot - they found your body! Your brother identified it, and bodies don't just –"

"Pop up out of nowhere?" Ronan smirked. "Like beds and grills."

"I knew it! I was right!"

"Yes, Parrish, you were right. I made the grill."

Adam leaned back against the car. Ronan moved next to him and did the same. Adam turned to the side, both to see Ronan and to hear him. "I have so many questions."

"Fire away. I'm an open book. I don't know what took you so long to ask."

"Asshole," Adam said, laughing. "You must feel really guilty that your ugly, foul-smelling demon almost killed me."

Ronan grunted.

"What do you think happened to your body?"

"No clue. I was blitzed. Someone might've taken it. I don't know."

"Why'd you bring a replica of yourself out of your dreams?"

"I had this dumb idea that I could slip into it."

Adam crossed his arm over his chest. "That's not a dumb idea, actually."

"It didn't work, and, if Dick is right, I freaked out some coroner too. I'd say that was dumb."

"Maybe it didn't work because the body wasn't whole. Gansey said it was missing major organs."

"Maybe… I don't know."

"I can help you get the body right. Make sure it as all the right parts in the right places."

"You've got your own shit to worry about. You don't need –"

"It's okay. I'm already ahead of my coursework. And the car isn't going to need as much work as I thought."

"But –"

"It can't hurt to try, right?"

~ ~ ~

Sweat rolled down the sides of Adam's face. Panting, he leaned on the shovel, pressed down into the dirt between him and Ronan.

They both looked at seven freshly-dug graves.

"Vae victis," Ronan said.

"We're not vanquished. We can –"

"It was a good effort, Parrish."

"Maybe we could –"

"We're done. It didn't work. We tried seven –"

"Six," Adam corrected. "One of those is your monster."

"Doesn't matter. It's been a long week. You look like shit. Give it a rest."

"One more try. I think if I –"

"No!"

Ronan stalked away. Adam pulled the shovel out of the ground and followed him.

"Ronan, I don't understand."

"You're right – you don't."

"If we could get it right, then –"

Ronan stopped and wheeled around. "I'm not your fucking problem to solve!"

"I'm not only trying to solve a problem," Adam said, trying not to rise up to meet Ronan's anger. "I want to help you."

"You can help me by _not_ helping me!"

Adam balled up his fist, not out of anger, but to ground himself. Of all people, Adam understood not wanting someone to help when the help wasn't wanted.

Something felt inherently wrong about letting this go. Adam didn't think it had to do with his driving need to fix things. It was something different, something in his gut. But he said, "Okay, Ronan," anyway.

They walked without a word towards the farmhouse. Adam watched their legs as they strode through the wildflower field, watched how Adam's legs brushed the flowers to the side, watched how the flowers ignored Ronan's existence. He couldn't imagine anyone or anything being able to ignore Ronan.

"Want to go through the things in the attic?" Adam asked.

"Whatever tickles your pickle, man."

After putting on music for Ronan, Adam went back and forth from the attic to the living room, carrying several boxes. The final one was the first he went through.

 _The Lord is my shepherd. I shall not want.  
He maketh me to lie down in green pastures.  
He leadeth me beside the still waters.  
He restoreth my soul.  
He leadeth me through the path of righteousness for His name's sake.  
Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death,  
_ I will fear no evil, for Thou art with me

Adam looked at his phone to note the artist of the song playing. "Patti Smith," he said. "This is the first female singer that I've heard you play."

"She's the godmother of punk. Lots of great women in punk - The Runaways, The Pretenders, Siouxsie and the Banshees, Blondie, The Slits. Suzie Quatro too."

_Leave me something.  
_ _Leave me something to live.  
_ _Oh, God, give me something:  
_ _A reason to live.  
_ _I don't want no handout;  
_ _No, not sympathy._  
_Come on. Come and love me.  
_ _Come on. Set me free.  
_ _Set me free.  
_ _Come on. Set me free  
_ _Set me free . . ._

_Oh, I'm so young, so goddamn young.  
_ _Oh, I'm so young, so goddamn young.  
_ _Oh, I'm so young, so goddamn.  
_ _Set me free_.

The box on the floor in front of Adam was filled with boys' clothes. Adam wasn't sure if they were worth donating. He held up a pair of red velour bell-bottoms that looked like they'd fit a kid around ten.

He asked, "Please, please tell me you wore these?"

Ronan looked down at him from the sofa. He chuckled. "No! Those were Declan's! He loved those fuckers. I dare you to show him them."

Laughing, Adam shook his head.

_Oh, God, give me something:  
A reason to live.  
I don't want no handout;  
No, not sympathy.  
Come on. Come and love me.  
Come on. Set me free.  
Set me free.  
Come on. Set me free  
Set me free . . ._

_Oh, I'm so young, so goddamn young.  
Oh, I'm so young, so goddamn young.  
Oh, I'm so young, so goddamn.  
Set me free_.

The second box was a hodge-podge of things. Adam pulled out a few paperbacks and held them upside, flipping through the pages looking for anything between the pages. Nothing fell out.

At the bottom of the box, he found a stack of photos tied together with a pink ribbon. The top photo looked like the three Lynch boys in front of a Christmas tree, in matching Christmas pajamas. They were all under ten.

"Ronan."

"Yeah," he said without opening his eyes.

"Um, I think maybe you should look at these."

He opened his eyes and saw what Adam was holding up. He slid on the floor. Adam scooted around to face the same way as Ronan.

Respectfully, he laid thirteen photos out in front of them like a deck of cards. They were all of the Lynches.

Ronan pointed to one of the three boys, standing in front of the house, holding sleds. The snow looked to be over a foot tall. "Blizzard of '83. Even Declan couldn't resist having fun that day."

"What the…?" Adam pointed to a photo of Ronan, looking not too much younger than he looked now. "Is that a raven on your shoulder?"

"Chainsaw," Ronan said softly.

"Chainsaw? That was his name?"

"Her name."

"She was your pet?"

"I dreamt her."

"Oh. You don't know what happened to her?"

"No," he said. "I hope she flew somewhere safe."

Adam picked up a photo of a very pregnant Aurora, standing on the front porch, wearing a short dress with big multicolored circles. Her blond hair was straight and long.

"She's pregnant with me."

"Your mom… Ronan, what happened to her?"

"You're smart. I'm sure you've figured it out."

He had. "Did you know before your dad died that he'd created your mother?"

Ronan had flinched at the word _'created_.'

"No. When the cows and other animals that he'd dreamt to life had fallen asleep like her…" He shrugged. "It was obvious."

Adam had started to think that Niall Lynch was a shitty father. Now, he was certain Niall Lynch was an overall, all-around, shitty human being.

He looked at a pregnant Aurora Lynch and the enormity of the magical world he'd stumbled into struck him. People creating dreams; dreams creating people.

Ronan laid back on the sofa and put his forearm over his eyes. "Parrish, put on the song 'Don't Fall in Love with a Dreamer' by Kenny Rogers." He paused for a beat and added, "Please."

From the first few notes, Adam knew this was a very un-Ronan-like song.

_Just look at you sitting there  
You never looked better than tonight  
And it'd be so easy to tell ya I'd stay  
Like I've done so many times_

_I was so sure this would be the night  
You'd close the door and want to stay with me  
And it'd be so easy to tell ya I'll stay  
Like I've done so many times_

"My father hated this song," Ronan said.

_Don't fall in love with a dreamer  
'Cause he'll always take you in  
Just when you think you've really changed him  
He'll leave you again  
Don't fall in love with a dreamer  
'Cause he'll break you every time  
Oh, put out the light, just hold on  
Before we say goodbye_

With a bit of smugness and pride in his voice, he said, "My mother loved it."

_Now it's mornin' and the phone rings  
And you say you've gotta get your things together  
You just gotta leave before ya change your mind_

_And if ya knew what I was thinkin', girl  
I'd turn around if you'd just ask me one more time_

~ ~ ~

_I know a guy who's tough but sweet  
He's so fine, he can't be beat  
He's got everything that I desire  
Sets the summer sun on fire_

_I want candy, I want candy_

_Go to see him when the sun goes down  
Ain't no finer boy in town  
You're my guy, just what the doctor ordered  
So sweet, you make my mouth water_

Adam sang along to the chorus as he pumped the jack to lift the back of the car.

_I want candy, I want candy_

When he didn't know the words, he hummed along.

_Candy on the beach, there's nothing better  
But I like candy when it's wrapped in a sweater  
Some day soon I'll make you mine,  
Then I'll have candy all the time_

_I want candy, I want candy  
I want candy, I want candy_

The next song started as Adam slid under the car. 

"Joan Jett. I liked her attitude," Ronan commented from the loft.

_We've been here too long  
Tryin' to get along  
Pretendin' that you're oh so shy  
I'm a natural ma'am  
Doin' all I can  
My temperature is runnin' high_

_Cry at night  
No one in sight  
An' we got so much to share  
Talking's fine  
If you got the time  
But I ain't got the time to spare  
Yeah_

Adam couldn't stop himself from singing along to this one too.

_Do you wanna touch (Yeah)  
Do you wanna touch (Yeah)  
Do you wanna touch me there, where  
Do you wanna touch (Yeah)  
Do you wanna touch (Yeah)  
Do you wanna touch me there, where  
There, yeah_

_Yeah, oh yeah, oh yeah_

He slid back out from under the car to find Ronan grinning at him, looking amused. "Seriously, Parrish, don't quit your day job."

"Well, thanks," Adam replied, faking offense.

"You're lucky you're smart and handsome…" He paused, looking like he realized what he'd just said. "Is all I'm saying."

Adam blushed. No one had ever called him handsome before. "What do you know?" He busied himself with moving tools around. "You've been dead for thirty years."

"Christ. I wasn't a monk when I was alive."

Adam blushed harder.

His phone buzzed, saving him from having to answer. He wiped his hand on a rag and dug it out of his pocket.

After reading the alert, he shoved the phone back in his pocket and went back under the car.

_Do you wanna touch (Yeah)  
Do you wanna touch (Yeah)  
Do you wanna touch me there, where  
Do you wanna touch (Yeah)  
Do you wanna touch (Yeah)  
Do you wanna touch me there, where  
There, yeah_

He stayed under there for as long as he could – at least three songs – finally, coming out when he needed more tools. Before he could slip back under the car, Ronan caught his eye.

Adam rolled his eyes at him. "Are you just going to sit up there and stare at me? Don't you have something more interesting to do in your perfect dream world?"

"Whoa!" Ronan said, holding up his hands in a surrender pose. "What the hell's wrong?"

"Nothing."

"Something's obviously wrong."

Adam walked to the back of the car. He crouched down and said, "If I wanted to tell you, I'd –"

Ronan sighed melodramatically. "So, I'm the sharer in this relationship, then?"

Adam half-laughed and stood back up. He wasn't used to sharing with anyone. 

"I got my grade back for my first paper."

"And what - you failed? Nah, I don't believe it."

"No. I got a B+."

He braced himself for Ronan's laugh.

But none came.

"Hey, man. Don't be so hard on yourself. It was your first college paper. And, you know, it's fucking Harvard."

"That's it – it's _Harvard_. Only the top 10% of the class are Harvard College Scholars. If I want to get into a great med school, I have to be on top. What if a B+ is the highest I get? What if my grades slip below a B? I'll lose my scholarships. What if I can't afford to go anymore? What if I actually fail out?"

Ronan came down from the loft. He leaned on the car near Adam. It looked like he wanted to reach out and touch Adam, or Adam could've imagined it.

"Parrish, you're not going to fail out. But –"

"But you think I might?"

" _But_ , if you did, which you won't, you'll be fine."

"I won't be fine. It's the only thing that I've planned for."

"Then you find a new plan," Ronan said. "Jesus, there's more than one medical school. There's more than one way to live a life. And what the fuck do you know at nineteen? How can we plan what we want to do with the rest of our lives when we don't know crap?"

"Did you have plans?" he asked, deflecting, and he knew it.

"No… yes. Sort of. It wasn't so much a plan as an idea. It was dumb."

"Tell me," Adam said, turning around to face Ronan fully.

"I mean, it doesn’t matter now because it's been done."

"Spit it out, Lynch."

"I wanted to create a network of music stations that played underground music in rural areas. Like college radio, but for the kids who didn't go to college. Because it sucked that kids in places like Henrietta only got two stations, and one was country and the other Christian. They had MTV, but that played mostly mainstream."

"That was a pretty solid idea," Adam said.

"Whatever. It was just an idea," Ronan said. "It doesn't matter. The world's changed. Radio hardly matters anymore. And I'm not that person anymore. "

After getting to know Ronan, Adam could easily imagine now what Ronan had been like alive. He imagined Ronan reckless, challenging, and breathtakingly overwhelming. Not much different than he is now.

"I didn't know you then," Adam said. "But I get the sense that you're still very much you."

"But it’s no use now to pretend to be two people! Why, there’s hardly enough of me left to make one respectable person!" Ronan cried out in a shrill voice.

Adam raised an eyebrow.

" _Alice in Wonderland_ – Chapter one. My dad read it to us constantly. I know it by heart."

"I've never read it.

"Maybe you'll read it at Harvard. Where you will absolutely be at the top of your class." Ronan looked inside the car. "When will she be running again?"

"I still need a few parts, and it looks like a new exhaust pipe."

"Show me what you need. I'll dream it."

That's all it took. It was that simple.

The next afternoon Adam sat in the driver's seat with Ronan in the passenger's seat. Adam pointed at the stereo. "That's not the original. Did you…?"

"Nah. I beat someone in a race, and it was the prize." Ronan grinned. "He had to install it too."

"Ready?" Adam asked, his hand on the key in the ignition. Ronan nodded. Adam turned the key, and the car roared to life.

"Let's take her out for a spin!" Ronan said. "You do know how to drive a stick shift, right?

"I do. But you can't leave the Barns."

"Let's try it. Maybe if I'm inside the car."

"Maybe…"

"It won't hurt to try," Ronan said.

"What happened when you've tried before?"

"I wake up in Cabeswater. No big deal. Come on – live a little!"

Adam nodded. "Alright."

He got out of the car and opened the barnyard doors. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see Ronan's neck twisted around watching him.

When he got back in the car, Ronan said, "Open the center console."

Inside the console was a row of cassette tapes. Each one had "MIXED TAPE" and then a number.

"Put in #3," Ronan said. "And let's go!"

Adam pushed the tape in. Ronan stopped him from pressing play. "Wait until we're in the driveway."

After backing the car out of the barn, Adam took the dirt path to the driveway. At the start or the end of the driveway, depending on whether you were coming or going, he stopped.

"You sure you want to –"

"Yes -yes. Let's go! Crank up the radio and pedal to the metal!"

Adam laughed at Ronan's excitement. Truthfully, Adam really wanted to drive this car.

He pressed the play button. The sounds of drums and electric guitar filled the car.

"Louder!" Ronan said.

Adam turned it up and revved the engine for effect.

"Fuck yeah!" Ronan shouted.

Adam started to ease up on the clutch and shifted into second gear.

_Aey oh, let's go_ _  
_ _Aey oh, let's go_ _  
_ _Aey oh, let's go_ _  
_ _Aey oh, let's go_

"Faster!" Ronan shouted over the music. "You've got the room!"

_They're formin' in a straight line  
They're goin' through a tight one  
The kids are losin' their minds  
They're pilin' in the back seat  
They generate steam heat  
Pulsatin' to the back beat_

Adam eased off the clutch.

_Aey oh, let's go  
Shoot 'em in the back now  
What they want? I don't know  
They're all reaved up and ready to go_

He shifted the gear into third.

_They're formin' in a straight line  
They're goin' through a tight one  
The kids are losin' their minds  
They're pilin' in the back seat  
They generate steam heat  
Pulsatin' to the back beat_

In front of him was the main road in the distance; behind him a cloud of dust; next to him Ronan, nodding his head to the music.

_Aey oh, let's go  
Shoot 'em in the back now  
What they want? I don't know  
They're all reaved up and ready to go_

They were going to reach the main road soon. Adam needed to slow down.

_They're formin' in a straight line  
They're goin' through a tight one  
The kids are losin' their minds  
They're pilin' in the back seat  
They generate steam heat  
Pulsatin' to the back beat_

He slowed down and stopped to check the road for cars. Ronan was still there, biting his bottom lip. No cars. He pulled out onto the main road.

"Shit," Ronan said quietly.

Adam turned. Ronan was gone.

_Aey oh, let's go  
Aey oh, let's go  
Aey oh, let's go  
Aey oh, let's go_

~ ~ ~

When Noah finally showed back, he'd been gone for thirteen days.

Ronan had been gone for four.

Adam was working on rewriting his paper. Since he had an 'A' in all his other assignments, his professor told him he could rework and resubmit the paper. However, the best he could get would still be an 'A minus'. He didn't hesitate to take her up on her offer. She'd given him a piece of advice, "This isn't high school. Your paper was too safe. Challenge yourself." And she'd provide him direction, highlighting sections of his original paper with the note, _'More of this!'_

He was sitting on the porch, avoiding the banging and drilling from the upstairs bathrooms, when he heard Noah's telltale cough moments before he appeared. Adam thought he looked more smudgy than usual, but it could be the sun.

"Hey, Adam."

"Hi, Noah."

Noah looked around. "Where's Ronan?"

"I don't know. I haven't seen him in a few days. We tried to drive away from the Barns, and I think he got pulled back to Cabeswater."

"Oh," Noah said, seeming unconcerned. "Where were you going?"

"Nowhere in particular. Just for a drive."

"Oh," Noah said again. "Ronan would've liked that."

Adam saved his paper and shut his laptop lid. "Do you think he's okay?"

"Yeah. He used to spend a lot more time in Cabeswater until you got here."

"Really?"

"One time, I was here from autumn to summer, and Ronan was in Cabeswater the whole time. I remember because there was a blizzard that year, and Ronan loves the snow."

"I guess Ronan likes to come around here a lot now for the music."

Noah laughed to himself. "Did he tell you about Cabeswater yet?"

"You mean his…" Adam looked through the door to make no one was there. "You mean his special talent?"

Noah let out a heavy sigh of relief. "Thank heavens, he told you! I hate keeping secrets from friends."

Adam smiled. He had really missed Noah. And Ronan. Just then, he realized that he'd been lonely the last few days.

"Anyway…" Noah said. "You think he can't get music in Cabeswater?"

"Oh, I… I hadn't really thought about it."

"Well, now, you have something to think about." Noah peered through the screen door. "What's going on in there?"

"Bathroom remodel. It's pretty loud."

"Can you leave? Want to go fishing?"

Adam looked at this watch. The workers would be there for another few hours.

"Sure," he said.

He told the foreman he had to go out and gave him Adam's number to call him in case he needed him. He grabbed a fishing pole and tackle box, and they headed for the pond, but Noah never made it. He was there one second and gone the next.

Adam stopped and looked around. The area where he disappeared seemed to still be part of the Barns property. He felt bad. He was looking forward to spending time with Noah. He'd kept track of the Bluefield Blue Jays wins and losses for him while he'd been gone. He wanted to share them with Adam.

Adam headed for the pond alone, but only walked a few feet when he heard a voice, a soft whisper, barely audible.

He looked around. "Noah? Ronan?"

He heard it again. The sound seemed to be coming from the trees. Maybe it wasn't a voice and only the trees rustling.

He walked away again, but only made it a few more steps before he stopped. Breathing in the still summer air, he replayed his thought, _'Trees rustling…'_

There was no wind. He walked closer to the edge of the forest. It sounded like a hushed voice. He couldn't make out any actual words. He stepped even closer. The sound, looking at the trees, seeing the leaves blowing in a wind that he couldn't feel – all of it made his insides feel out of sync with his skin.

"What are they saying?" a soft voice said behind him.

Startled, he spun around.

A woman stood there, looking past him at the trees. She had on a checkered dress mostly covered by her long blonde hair. In her right hand, she held a fishing pole. In her left, she held a picnic basket.

"Hello, ma'am," Adam said tentatively. "Um, can I help you?"

"The trees," she said. Her voice was soft, almost child-like. "What are they saying?"

"How do you – wait. I've seen you before. I saw you in the store near the corn bin with your two friends."

"You're extremely observant, Adam."

"Okay, but… how do you know that – what I mean is – the trees… can you hear them?"

"Nooooo." She looked dreamily into the forest. "I can't."

"Then how do you know they're, ah, saying something?"

She patted his bicep. "The same way I know that you can see and hear things that other people can't."

"Ma'am, I'm sorry… I'm really confused at the moment."

"I know, dear. Let's go fishing, and we can talk," she said, slipping her arm through Adam's.

At the pond, she pulled out a blanket and laid it down on the bank. She sat down first and patted the space next to her. They sat down, and she finally introduced herself.

"How rude of me. I didn't properly introduce myself." She held out her delicate hand. Adam took and shook it. "I'm Persephone."

"I'm starting to get the feeling that you're one of the psychics who come out to the Barns sometimes."

"It seems I'm not the only one who knows something about the other already."

Persephone cast out first. Adam followed.

"I like fishing," she said. "It's peaceful."

They sat there in silence for a while, looking out over the pond and swatting the gnats away.

Adam had a bite on his line and easily hooked the fish. Immediately, he knew, by the way it fought, he was bringing in a rainbow trout. Persephone clapped for him.

He cast again and sat down next to her. He opened his mouth to ask her to please explain why she was here and what she wanted, but she started to speak first.

"Adam, have you ever looked into the water, with the sun sparkling on it, and you looked so hard that you thought you could get lost in it?"

He had. He hadn't thought about it after, but he had.

"You did once," she said.

"What?"

"That's how I found you."

"I got lost – _where_? And you found me _how_?"

"Lost elsewhere." She looked thoughtful for a moment. "It doesn't really have a name. Or at least it's never told me. Maybe it'll tell you." She patted his hand. "I know you're frustrated."

"Confused - more."

"Do you remember when you felt it? When you felt like you'd fallen into water, but you never moved?"

"No – I… I was – I drifted off to sleep. It was a dream."

"Some call it dreaming… but you weren't asleep. You know that."

He didn't know that. No. He did know that. It had happened in a small pool of rainwater right outside of the trailer. He'd been sitting there, waiting for his father to fall asleep before he went inside. Staring in the water had calmed him. He'd stared at it and counted off the days before he'd graduate. He'd stared and counted. Started and counted until his eyes blurred. Water and stars had surrounded him for only a minute or so, until it'd turned into darkness – no, not even darkness. It'd turned into nothing. He'd felt like he was falling into it, before something had pushed him out, and his body had jerked awake.

"It was me," Persephone said.

"You what?"

"It was me who found you in there. You're lucky too. I shoved you away because you weren't ready then."

"Ready for what?"

"Ready to do what I'm about to show you how to do, and, if I'm right, soon you'll be able to understand what the trees want to tell you and find what they're trying to hide."

~ ~ ~

It happened slowly. The sunlight seeped into his mind. He heard Persephone's voice. "There's more than the light. Push through it, Adam."

He pushed through the light and into the nothing.

"It's nothing," he whispered.

"They're there," Persephone whispered back. "Places that only sort of exist. Places that don't want to be seen. They're there."

He reached out with his mind, searching, like Persephone urged him to do.

The trees whispered to him again. He peered into the nothing, pushing, trying to find them. A huge tree materialized out of the nothing, its branches endless. It became more clear. It wasn't one tree; it was dozens, their roots and branches intertwined together.

He pushed forward more determined.

Branches wrapped around his ankles and grew up his legs.

Frightened, he yanked his psyche back. And he was outside of the trailer, holding his ear, feeling the blood trickle out of it, swallowing down vomit, and wondering - wondering what he needed to say to make his father not kill him this time.

He was back with the trees. Something had yanked him back. It had been the branches around his legs.

This time, he wasn't just looking at the trees. Now, he was in the center of them.

The branches squeezed his legs harder.

_'I can't understand you! Speak clearer!'_

The trees got louder.

_'Louder!'_

A single word.

_'Louder!'_

The branches tightened on his legs. He felt what they wanted.

_'You can trust me!'_

"Enough, Adam!"

He was suspended for a second between two places: the ring of trees and the bank of the pond.

And he heard the trees then. They told him one word.

 _Greywaren_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you everyone for your comment and kudos! I love and appreciate all of the feedback!
> 
> Again, thank you to my team (Artist: squash1-squash2 | Beta: galwaygremlin) for being patient with me as I finish the final draft! You're amazing!
> 
> [Spotify playlist](https://open.spotify.com/playlist/2OxMjbHYbGJcMk4Cw1kzRu?si=fzVmSWOQQ9ik4WA9Y-ZiAQ)


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not a lot of Pynch in this chapter! But a little bit of Bluesy for you!

**_Strange as Angels_ **

**Chapter 7**

Most of the boxes that previously sat on the shelves at Monmouth Manufacturing were now on the floor, their lids open, and the contents thrown all over. Books and papers covered the mattress on the floor except for the spot where Gansey sat, listening to Adam – sitting on one of the sturdier boxes - relay what had happened the day before.

"As soon as I – I guess came back, she made me pick a card from a deck of tarot cards."

"What was it?" Gansey asked.

"The Magician."

"Okay – okay. The Magicians fix things. He creates a bridge between the spiritual and material world. What did she say?"

"Almost the same thing you just did."

"And Persephone didn't know what a Greywaren is?"

"No," Adam said. "I was hoping you did."

Absent-mindedly, Gansey rubbed his hand over the leather cover of his journal. "I started looking as soon as I got your text last night and nothing." He looked around the room at his research. "It sounds like a bird, though – doesn't it?"

"Yeah. Maybe. 'Waren' means 'goods' in German. In the Middle Ages, it meant 'to protect' or 'to guard."

"Do you think that's important?" Gansey asked.

"I don't know."

"But there's something."

"It was only a feeling. It felt like the trees were… defensive – protective, maybe."

"What did Persephone say to that?"

"She just made this humming noise of agreement."

"And she told you she's one of the psychics that live at 300 Fox Way in town?"

Adam nodded.

Yawning, Gansey took off his wireframes and rubbed at his bloodshot eyes.

"Have you been sleeping?" Adam asked.

"What…? Oh, yeah, sometimes. I've been looking through my books and notes for any references to ghosts like Noah."

"Anything?"

Gansey shook his head. "Something exceptional is happening at the Barns – I'm sure of it, but I can't figure out what."

Adam felt a pang of guilt over not disclosing everything about the Barns. Adam felt a pang of something else thinking about Ronan being gone so long.

"Hey, you hungry?" Gansey asked.

"I could eat."

"Let's go to Nino's."

Nino's was a favorite spot for the Raven Boys of Aglionby. They hung there in rowdy crowds after games or long study sessions. Adam had been there a lot. But never as a student. He'd worked there the summer between freshman and sophomore year bussing tables. He'd quit a few weeks before his fellow students would be back on campus, loitering around Nino's - taking up every available space, flirting with the waitresses, and trying to pass off fake IDs for pitchers of beer.

Outside the factory, Adam looked at fast-moving dark clouds and suggested that they take the truck. He didn't want to offend Gansey and tell him that he worried the Pig would break down in the rain.

They made it to Nino's just as the storm hit. They had their choice of tables in the near-empty restaurant. Gansey led them to a booth in the corner. Adam was looking out the window at the ponding rain when the server approached and placed a menu on the table in front of him. As he looked up to say 'thank you,' he heard his name, "Adam?"

The server was looking at him with her big eyes, made even bigger with her surprised look.

"Blue!" He hadn't considered that anyone he'd worked with was still there. "Hey, how are you?"

She waved her hand around. "Still living the dream."

He laughed. Gansey cleared his throat. He was staring at Blue's dark spiky hair that ended in purple tips.

"Blue, this is my friend Gansey. Gansey, this is Blue."

"Pleased to meet you," he said.

She gave him a fake smile that said, _'I'm a professional.'_ Adam knew she had her share of obnoxious Raven Boys, and Gansey didn't need a uniform to be identified as a Raven Boy. Blue had granted Adam an exemption from her disdain for Raven Boys and thought of him as a local like her first.

"Can I get you something to drink?" she asked.

"Tea," Adam said.

"Same," Gansey added.

Gansey was too polite to watch her walk away, but Adam could tell that he wanted to.

They decided on pizza – half pepperoni and half sausage. Blue took their order, and Gansey said, 'thank you' three times.

While they waited for their food, they talked about Adam's summer courses and Gansey's vacation with his family. Once the pizza came, the conversation shifted back to Adam's encounter with a psychic.

"She said I needed to practice scrying, but only with her," Adam said.

"Did she say when?"

"No. We left the pond, and when we got to the spot where we met, she just said, _'I'll see you soon,'_ and wandered off into the forest."

"Could you hear the trees then?"

"No. They were quiet." Adam ran his hand through his hair. "This is weird. Trees talking. Scrying."

"It's exciting, though – right?"

Adam smiled and nodded. "She said I'm psychic." He laughed. "Me. Psychic."

Gansey frowned. "Why not you?"

Adam shrugged and picked off a stray chunk of pepperoni from his pizza. "It could just be because I'm so close to the ley line."

"No, it's not. Being able to scry is a whole other level, Adam. It's not something you can learn. It's something innate."

Gansey only confirmed what Adam had read on the internet last night about the ability to scry. He still wasn't convinced.

Blue approached, smiling at Adam. "Hey, my shift's ending. Do you mind settling your check now?"

"Sure," Adam said, taking the check from her hand.

Gansey and Adam split the check and left a twenty percent tip.

"What are you doing in the fall?" she asked Adam as he handed her the bill and the money.

"College."

"Local?" she asked. 

"Up north."

She smiled. "Harvard or Yale?"

"Harvard."

She smiled wider and reached out to squeeze his hand. "I'm happy for you. All your hard work paid off." 

"How about you?" he asked.

Shrugging, she said, "Virginia State."

Gansey spoke up then. "VSU is a reputable school. Nothing to be ashamed about going to a state school."

She crossed her arms over her chest and glared at him. "Who said I was ashamed?"

"No one," he said quickly. "I only meant… I mean Adam's going to Harvard and –"

"And," she said, "Adam had opportunities that I didn't have."

"Well, Adam worked very hard to –"

"And _I_ don't work hard?"

"I didn't say that," Gansey argued.

He looked at Adam for help. Adam shook his head slowly. He wasn't going to rescue Gansey from his own insular, privileged views.

"Yes. Adam worked hard," Blue said. "And I worked hard too, but do you" – she looked around dramatically from left to right – "see an all-girls elite school around here?"

"Well, no," Gansey said.

"Exactly. No matter how good someone's grades are, they don't go from Mountain View High to Harvard and, especially, not with scholarships."

"I didn't say that you had to go to Harvard," Gansey said, sounding desperate for this conversation to end.

Blue looked like she was prepared to go at this all night. "Or maybe you have an issue with VSU because it's a black school."

"What? No – God, no. You misunderstand me…"

"Oh, so now, I'm too stupid to understand what you're saying?"

Groaning, Gansey dropped his face in his hands.

Looking triumphant, Blue smiled at Adam. "It was great seeing you again, Adam. Good luck at Harvard."

She glared for a few seconds at the back of Gansey's head before walking away.

Adam picked up the last piece of pizza and took a bite.

Gansey put his hands down. "Is it safe?"

"Yeah. She's gone."

"What did I say?"

At Aglionby, Adam hadn't only gotten As in all of his classes. He'd also got an A in ignoring privileged assholes and their stupid privileged comments.

But Gansey looked generally concerned. And Adam was growing fond of him.

Adam sighed. "What do you think you might've said that was wrong?"

"I don't know. She sounded like she wasn't happy about going to VSU. I was only trying to make her feel better about not going to a top school like Harvard."

"And that was it."

"I don't understand," Gansey said. He took something out of his pocket, put it into his mouth, and Adam smelled mint.

"Maybe, because, generally, she's not embarrassed about getting into VSU. Most kids from Mountain View are going to community or not at all. She's probably pretty proud of going to VSU. Maybe she was embarrassed because she was saying it in front of two Aglionby boys who had a lot more options than she does and she thought we'd judge her."

"I wasn't! I think it's admirable that she's risen above – "

"Oh my god, Gansey, stop right there. That's the bullshit I'm talking about. We don't need pats on the head by people like you!"

"Like _me_? What does that mean?"

"Yes, like you. You have to know that you've had everything handed to you."

"Yes, but – I mean, there are options for people who don't have everything handed to them."

Adam dropped the crust from the pizza on his plate and rubbed his hands clean with a napkin. "If I lived just twenty-five miles from here, I wouldn't be going to Harvard."

"What? No! Adam, you're the smart person that I've ever met."

"That doesn't mean anything. You know Springfield, that small town just south of here? My father almost moved us there when I was in seventh grade. If I'd moved to Springfield, I wouldn't have gone to Aglionby. There are no buses that run from there to here. I couldn't have made that trip on my bike every day. I would've gone to Springfield High and had to compete with every other smart scholarship kid trying to get into Harvard. My chances would have been .002% of getting in."

"I've never thought about it like that."

"Name a guy in our class that was mediocre academically at best."

"That guy who believes all those crazy conspiracy theories - Christian."

"Got into Penn."

Gansey sighed. "I see your point. I'll admit that I've thought, _'Maybe I'll join Adam at Harvard next year,'_ like it wasn't something huge and unattainable to some people."

Gansey's admission was disgustingly privileged, but it also revealed something about how Gansey felt about their friendship.

Adam asked, "Will you be going to school next year?"

"I have to," he replied. "My parents would be very disappointed in me if I didn't. They say it's throwing away potential, but what they really mean is that it doesn't look good for a senator's son to be an underachiever. My father jokes that he'll disown me if I don't."

Gansey had said it casually, but Adam had heard the note of seriousness behind his glib tone. Adam had always believed that having money meant freedom. Gansey didn't look like he felt free at all.

"You have time to decide," Adam said. "You can visit me at Harvard to see if you like it."

"Yeah?"

"Sure," Adam said as he started to slide out of the booth. "I'm sure there are some ley lines up there you could look into."

Outside, Adam was surprised to see Blue standing under the restaurant's awning out of the rain. He jogged up to her. "Hey, everything okay?"

"My cousin was supposed to pick me up twenty minutes ago," she said, looking at her phone. "I texted and called – she's not answering me."

"We can give you a ride," Adam said.

Blue looked up at the two boys with serious suspicion. She opened her umbrella. "No, thanks. I think I'll walk."

"You think…" Gansey looked aghast. "No! I'd never.

Adam thought more practically. "Take our picture," he said. "Send it to someone and let them know you've left with us. Or we can go back inside with you to let the manager know who you're with."

Beside him, Gansey nodded in agreement.

She held up her phone. "Say cheese!" She huffed. "I'm serious – say _'cheese_!"

Both boys leaned into each other and said, "cheese!" A flash went off. Blue checked the photo. She typed something, and the text was sent off with a _swoosh_ sound.

"Let's go," she said.

There were three cars in the parking lot. Adam pointed the truck and they made a run for it. By the time they got to the truck, the boys were soaked. Because she had the shelter of her umbrella, Blue looked somewhat dry.

Gansey got into the backseat, letting Blue take the passenger seat.

Adam started the truck. "Where do you live?"

"300 Fox Way."

Adam turned at look at Gansey. His eyes were wide and surprised. Adam mentally struggled to recall anything about Blue's family but came up with nothing.

"What?" Blue asked, looking suspicious again.

"You live with Persephone? Adam asked.

"Yeah – she's my aunt. How do you know her?"

"Are you psychic too?" Gansey asked.

"No – yes – sort of. It's complicated. Everyone in my family are psychics. Is that how you know Persephone? Did you visit her?"

"No. She found me," Adam said.

He pulled out of the parking lot and told her the story from the beginning, leaving a Ronan Lynch sized chunk from the narrative. He'd covered everything else by the time he made the turn onto Fox Way. He drove slowly down the street until Blue told him to pull over. He parked the car with the driver's side next to the curb.

Through the rain of the driver's window, Adam looked up the path to the bright blue house. It felt warm and welcoming, but he guessed that was the point to attract clients.

Blue said, "So, you're the one behind the whispers that have been going on all summer."

"I don't know," Adam said, turning towards her. "Am I?"

"I don't know – I'm only guessing – because they haven't told me _anything_."

"Why not?" Adam asked.

"My mom still treats me like a kid and… I'm not psychic, not in the way that they are. They only tell me what's going on when they need me."

"How are you different?" Adam asked.

"It's hard to explain."

"Help me out, Blue," Adam said. "This whole psychic thing is new to me and a bit scary."

"I don't have any psychic abilities myself," she explained. "But I can amplify psychic powers."

"Really?" Gansey unbuckled his seatbelt and scooted across the seat to lean forward between Adam and Blue. "That's really special."

"Yeah," Blue replied, rolling her eyes. "It's special - making _other_ people powerful."

"No, it is," Gansey said firmly.

Looking appalled that he dared to go against her again, Blue glared at him.

He continued before she could argue, "I've been all over the world – met all sorts of people with unique supernatural abilities – and researched everything I could find about everything unique and special – and I've _never_ heard of anyone that can do that. So, yeah, I think it's really special.

Blue looked away from Gansey, her jaw clenched tight, but Adam thought she looked a bit pleased with his praise around her eyes.

"Do you have any idea what's going on?" Adam said. "Persephone was, um, vague."

"That's not unusual," Blue said. "Cryptic is her specialty. But you scried, Adam, on the first try. That's very unusual and" – she looked at Gansey – " _special_."

"I don't know how I got it."

Blue shrugged. "No one does."

Gansey said, "Well, actually –"

Blue's eyes caught fire. "Don't you dare _'well, actually'_ me!"

Gansey opened his mouth to respond and was saved by a knock on the window. They all jumped. Adam turned around to see a gorgeous young woman standing under a bright purple umbrella. He rolled down the window. Before it was halfway down, Blue shouted at the woman.

"Orla, where were you? You left me out in the rain!"

"Talk to the old ladies," Orla said.

"Who are you calling old?" a woman screamed from the doorway. Adam recognized her as one of the other two women he'd seen with Persephone at the market.

Orla leaned her forearm on the window. She craned her neck to look in the backseat. "They told me you had another ride. Alone with two handsome young men - _unsupervised_. Blue, I didn't expect this from you."

"Shut up, Orla."

"Whatever. They told me to tell you to come in."

"Yeah, fine," Blue said. Reaching down for her umbrella that she'd dropped on the floor, she thanked Adam for the ride.

"No," Orla said. "They want all of you to come in."

Adam looked at Blue. She half-shrugged. "Be prepared. They can be overwhelming."

Gansey got out first, and Orla linked their arms together, holding the umbrella over their heads.

"Chivalry isn't dead, I see," Adam said, laughing.

"Hold on," Blue said.

She hopped out of the car and came around the driver's side and opened the door, holding her umbrella out. Still laughing, Adam held his hand out for the umbrella. "Makes more sense if I hold it over us."

Blue, who only came up to Adam's shoulder, fit easily under the umbrella and by his side. Adam had wished he'd paid more attention to her that summer; but, he'd been so damn tired then, carrying his father's abuse on his body, working four jobs that summer – one to give his parents money and the other three to save for tuition. The only thing he could remember about her was she worked a lot of jobs too, her hate for Aglionby boys, and her unique fashion sense.

Suddenly, he remembered something else. "Are you still trying to save the planet, Blue?"

She smiled up at him. "Yeah. I'm majoring in environmental science at VSU."

On the porch, as Adam and Orla closed their umbrellas, the front door opened, and the angry-looking woman in the doorway shouted at them to hurry up. Orla brushed passed her to go inside.

"It's about time you got here," the woman said irritably.

"Calla, you know that Orla left me stranded and – "

"I didn't mean you," she said. "I mean these two."

Adam stepped in behind Gansey and immediately found himself crammed into a packed hallway filled with women all talking at the same time. Adam had the urge to reach out and hold Gansey's hand for emotional support.

The women parted a bit, and an older version of Blue stepped up to them. Adam recognized her from the market as the woman who'd shown him how to pick out the corn. "I'm Maura – Blue's mom. I'm just going to take Blue and Gansey into here. I'll talk with you another time, Adam. Calla, will you join me?"

Maura put her hand on Gansey's shoulder and led him into the first room. Right before Gansey disappeared through the doorway, he looked over his shoulder at Adam. Adam put his hands in the air to show that he didn't know what was going on either.

"You need a haircut."

Adam turned to see Orla inspecting his head. "What? I reckon maybe I –"

"Mom, get my haircutting stuff."

A woman, just as tall and striking as Orla, nodded, smiling pleasantly at Adam. "I'll put some tea on too."

Orla grabbed Adam's hand and pulled him through the hallway into the kitchen, where he saw Persephone sitting at the table, cutting a pie.

"Oh, Adam," she said. "I'm so glad that you could make it tonight. I baked this, especially for your visit."

"Thank you, ma'am," Adam said. "That's kind of you – but if I didn't know I was coming, how did – oh, nevermind – psychic – right."

Orla pulled a chair out and told him to sit. He sat.

Before his brain could catch up with what had transpired over the last few minutes, he had a cape around his shoulders, a plate with a piece of cherry pie in his hand, and Orla spritzing his hair with water.

"Don't look so nervous," Orla said, running his fingers through his hair. "I cut all of my boyfriends' hair."

"All?" Adam asked. "More than one?"

"As many as I can," she replied, grabbing his hand and inspecting his nails. She tsked. "You could use a manicure too."

"We don't have time for that, Orla," Persephone said.

"What do we have time for?" Adam asked.

Persephone replied, "This is more of a social visit for you – Orla, dear, do try not to get hair in his pie – with a sprinkling of some shop talk."

Orla's mother introduced herself as Jimi and asked Adam if he wanted ice cream for his pie.

"No, thank you," Adam said.

He took bites of his pie while Orla manipulated his head this way and that way. When he finished, Orla's mother put a mug of tea in his hand. It smelled like lavender and honey.

"Sip it slow," Jimi said. "You're driving."

"What?" He peered in the mug. "Is there alcohol in this?"

"Of course not," Jimi said. "You're underaged. We run a respectable home."

"Why don't you tell us how Noah is doing, Adam?" Persephone asked.

"How do you know about Noah?" he asked.

"You called for him right before we met."

"Oh, yeah." His stomach rolled over. He had called for Ronan too.

"Don't worry," Persephone said. "Secrets aren't secrets anymore if you tell someone. And I quite like your secret. No one will ask you about it here."

"Sip your tea, Adam," Jimi said.

He sipped it. He's never had herbal tea before; he liked it. It felt warm and soothing going down his throat. He didn't feel anxious about revealing Ronan's existence anymore.

"Noah's a ghost who lives on the property," he said. "You know that, though. He told me psychics come to talk to him. Is that you?"

"Mostly, me and Maura," Jimi said. "Ghosts are our specialty."

"Noah's a very special ghost," Persephone said. "But _you_ know that already."

"I didn't know that it was unusual that he could communicate with the living until Gansey told me."

"Gansey can see him too?" Persephone asked, seeming surprised. "Well, that's interesting. Jimi, why don't you go check in with the other room and see how things are going?"

Jimi got up. She stopped and looked at his hair. "Good job, Orla."

"I know," Orla said proudly. Adam heard an electric razor and jerked away. "Relax. I'm just cleaning up your neck and around your ears." She leaned down and purred in his ear, "Trust me."

When she finished, she brushed his neck with a powder puff and handed him a mirror. He had to admit that it did look nicer than any haircut he'd given himself.

Orla poured herself tea and sat down across the table. She pulled out a nail file and started working on her nails.

"Poor soul," Persephone said.

"Who?" he asked.

"Noah. He's been there for a very long time. We tried to help him move on for some peace, but he's very stubborn about staying there."

Adam frowned. "He seems happy enough. He loves baseball. He follows the minor league team over in Bluefield. I taught him how to look up things on the internet. And he goes fishing with me when he's not away."

"That's not an awful way to spend your time," Persephone said. "Did he ever tell you where he goes?"

"He told me he doesn't remember."

Jimi appeared in the doorway. "King of Pentacles."

"Is that Gansey's card?" Adam asked. "What does it mean?"

Persephone smiled a small satisfied smile. "It means that you two will be very helpful in figuring out what's draining the ley line." She picked up the teapot. "Have another cup of tea, Adam."

~ ~ ~

Adam added 'learning how to be a better psychic' to the list of his current responsibilities. He fell into a daily routine that started at 300 Fox Way, studying scrying and the tarot. The afternoons he spent working at the Barns: supervising the contractors, paying bills, and making phone calls. At night, he did his coursework in the living room with Ronan's playlist playing quietly from his phone.

In bed, before sleep and in the early morning, he tried not to worry about Ronan.

One morning, Persephone took Adam to the top of the mountain, where she said the ley line was the strongest. When he stood next to her, the early morning mist cooling his skin, she asked him how it made him feel. And he said, "Right." She said, "Right?" He clarified, " _Balanced_."

She asked, "Does it make you feel small?" He replied, "No." She asked, "Does it make you feel weak?" He answered, "No. It makes me feel significant." She smiled.

Then she took him to another spot, about halfway between Henrietta and the Barns. They stood in the forest near a large boulder with symbols he had never seen etched onto it. She said the ley line was almost too broken to exist here. Something under his skin prickled. She asked him again how it made him feel. And he said, "Wrong. _Unbalanced_." She asked, "Does it make you feel insignificant?" He had to think about that for a moment. "No. It makes me feel… _curious_." She replied, "You're a Magician. It wants you to fix it."

"I don't know how," he said.

"Somewhere along this ley line there is a version of you who does know. I promise you'll catch up to him."

~ ~ ~

During the day, men working on the remodel flooded the farmhouse. Adam tried to stay out of their way but close enough to oversee the work and be available for questions. He didn't recognize any of the men, but one of them had recognized him and told his father that Adam was at the Barns. Because one night, after all the workers were gone, Robert Parrish stood at the bottom of the porch steps at the Barns.

"You left," Robert Parrish said, "didn't tell your mother or me where you were headed. Your mother's been worried sick."

Adam stood on the porch just outside the door. He hadn't said a word. Not even 'hello.'

"You've got a sweet setup here." His father craned his neck to look around Adam to inside the house. "I heard this Lynch fellow is pretty rich. I'm sure he's paying you good."

Adam didn't blink.

"Aren't you going to ask me why I'm here, son?"

He thought of the shotgun – the one that had killed Ronan's nightmare – the one that he'd grabbed when he saw his father outside and left just inside the door.

"Why are you here, _dad_?"

"To collect on what you owe me." His father's voice had shifted from the fake caring voice he had been using to the angry, bitter one that Adam knew best. "I reckon you owe me for eighteen years of rent, food, clothes."

For a moment, Adam considered paying his father so that he'd go away. But Adam knew his father too well. Robert Parrish would come back for more money and more money until he drained Adam dry of both his financial stability and his pride.

Adam stared beyond his father at the wildflower field lit up by the full moon.

The entire universe waited out there for him now. He no longer lived in Robert Parrish's world. When scrying, his mind traveled so far beyond a double-wide on a barren, dusty lot that Adam almost forgot what it felt like to live there.

Quietly and firmly, he said, "I don't owe you anything. I'll never owe you anything."

His father spat on the ground. "Can't look at me when you disrespect me?"

Adam looked him in the eye in the same way he had when he'd left the trailer the day of his graduation.

"I don't owe you anything. And you have no right to be here. I'm kindly asking you to leave now."

Robert Parrish placed a foot on the bottom step. "I've got every right to be wherever my ungrateful son is!"

Adam pulled his new, expensive iPhone out of his charity store, worn, army green cargo shorts. "One more foot, and I'm calling the police. You're trespassing on private property."

They both heard the unearthly howl at the same time.

His father looked around frantically to see what made the sound. Adam already saw it. A huge dog – or wolf – or maybe something that had never existed before – rushed towards them through the field, the moonlight illuminating its deep black fur.

"What the…?" Looking terrified, Robert Parrish jerked towards Adam as if he was considering running into the house. Adam glared at him, giving a silent warning that this wasn't an option.

The creature grew closer – close enough to see its blazing red eyes and sharp white fangs. His father dashed to his truck, reaching it only a moment before the creature reached him. He got inside, but unfortunately for Robert Parrish, he had left the window down. Spit flew from the animal's mouth as he growled and snarled at Adam's father through the window.

Cursing and yelling, he struggled to start the truck while trying to avoid the creature's snapping jaws. As soon as the engine finally roared to life, Robert Parrish sped forward and made a sharp turn into the driveway. The creature only backed off momentarily. It took off behind the truck, growling and snarling.

Adam wheeled around towards Ronan, who had walked out of the field, following his creation and wearing a devilish grin.

"What the hell is wrong with you?"

"You're welcome," Ronan said, taking a bow.

"I had it under control," Adam snapped.

"Did you?" Ronan lept up the stairs and leaned casually against the railing. "Because I think you were out here alone with a violent psychopath."

"I know how to handle him. I've been doing it my whole –" The creature howled. "Jesus, Ronan. That thing can hurt someone!"

Ronan rolled his eyes like Adam was stupid. "Can you whistle? Whistle for him."

Adam put his thumb and forefinger in his mouth and whistled. The creature didn't return. He tried again.

"Give it a fucking second, Parrish."

Out of the dark driveway, the creature returned. It looked different this time – less wolf and more dog. Its eyes were no longer red, and the only thing ferocious about it was the speed its tail wagged. The dog trotted up the steps and nuzzled his snout into the palm of Adam's hand.

"I can't believe you, Ronan," Adam said, turning and stalking into the house.

The dog muscled his way inside before Adam could stop him. The dog, its nose to the floor, crept through the hall and into the dining room, back out into the hall, then into the living room.

"What?" Ronan followed Adam down the hall into the living room. "He scared the fuck out of that dickface father of yours. Why am I the asshole here?"

"What am I supposed to do with it? What if Declan shows up unexpectedly and sees it? I could get fired. Don't you ever think!"

"We'll figure something out," Ronan said.

The dog came into the room and laid down along the length of the sofa. He yawned wide, whined softly, and put his nose on his two front paws.

"Figure what out – leave it here to starve or – I don't know - kill it?" The dog's eyes opened. He whimpered. "I can't bring a dog to Harvard with me. There are already graves – _graves_ out in the field that can't be explained."

"Hey, that was your idea!"

Adam slammed his laptop closed. "This shit isn't in my job description."

"That's all this is to you – a _job_? I'm simply part of your _job_?"

"You can't do things like this! You can't go off for weeks to sulk and then come back with a living, breathing creature that I have to deal with now!"

Ronan's brow crinkled. "Weeks? Have you lost your marbles? I wasn't _off sulking_ for weeks."

"Stop, Ronan. Just stop."

"Stop what? I said – I wasn't gone for weeks!"

"Yes, you were! It's the end of July."

"What?" Ronan looked concerned. "No - I barely spent any time in Cabeswater."

"You're not messing with me?"

There was no sarcastic retort. Ronan simply rubbed the back of his neck and asked, "It's the end of July, really?"

Adam sat down on the chair. "Yeah. Today's July 30th."

"Well, fuck," Ronan said and started to pace. The dog looked up in concern and followed Ronan with his stormy grayish blue eyes. He could see Ronan. "Time in Cabeswater is weird, man, but… _weeks_?"

"Has this ever happened before?"

"No – maybe – no – I don't know." Ronan did a loop around the sofa, stepping over the dog, who rolled over on his belly in hopes Ronan would stop and pet him. "No one was here to tell me how long I was gone."

He toed the dog's hindquarters with his boot. The dog sat up, leaving Ronan room to step up to the sofa and sit down. The dog jumped on the sofa next to Ronan and put his head in his lap. Ronan buried his hand in the dog's fur in his neck.

"You can touch him," Adam said.

"Good to know you haven't lost your brains while I was gone."

"Ronan, _I_ can touch him, and _you_ can touch him."

"Oh, yeah." Ronan shrugged. "Cool. Don't worry about Sid. He can –"

"You named him already?"

"Yeah. When you go to school, he can live in the forest. He can take care of himself. Right, Sid Vicious?"

An argument to Ronan's absurdity jammed itself in Adam's throat as he realized how much he had missed him.

And how much he will miss him.

He was leaving in a few weeks for good, and he'd never see Ronan again. He tried to swallow the lump, but it only grew larger and hurt more.

"So…" Ronan hooked one knee over the arm of the sofa and stretched the opposite arm over the back of it. "What's been going on since I've been gone?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you everyone for reading! 
> 
> Again, thank you to my team (Artist: squash1-squash2 | Beta: galwaygremlin) for being patient with me as I finish the final draft! You're amazing!


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to my team (Artist: squash1-squash2 | Beta: galwaygremlin) for being patient with me!

**_Strange as Angels_ **

**Chapter 8**

"Are the trees talking to you now, Magician?" Ronan asked.

Adam replied, "No. And I should have never told you about the Magician."

"Are you going to pull a rabbit out of your hat for me?" Ronan laughed and pushed away from the tree he'd been leaning against. He started walking a figure eight around two trees.

"You're hysterical. And no. This wasn't the area where I heard them."

They were outside one of the old stone outbuildings. The Barns had three of them, and Adam had to prepare them for the window and door installers. He had finished two with Ronan keeping him company.

Adam took a sledgehammer and whacked the door of a stone outbuilding. It cracked on the first hit, and the rotting planks of wood shattered into chunks. He began throwing the pieces into a wheelbarrow.

"Trees talking is really freaky, Parrish. The next thing you're going to tell me is that they speak Latin or some shit."

Adam stopped and looked at Ronan. "Why did you say that?"

"Say what?"

"Why did you say the trees speak Latin?"

"I didn't say the trees speak Latin. I said, _'the next thing you're going to tell me is that the trees speak Latin or some shit.'_ See big difference."

"You're splitting hairs, and you know it. Why did you mention the trees speaking Latin?"

"Tell me first if they do."

"I've banked like two dozen questions in our deal that I've never cashed in. Answer my question first."

Sid had come out of nowhere and launched himself at Adam with muddy paws. "Down, boy." Sid got down and was quickly distracted by a scent on the ground. He followed it into the building.

Adam turned back towards Ronan. "Will you please stop that pacing and tell me why you said that?"

"Fine!" Ronan walked over to him. "The trees in Cabeswater speak Latin – well, it's not always good Latin, but they try. Now, answer _my_ question."

"The first time I scried, I only heard one word – Greywaren. The last time I did it, I heard another word – discedo."

"Discedo - go away," Ronan said. His jaw tightened. Whatever Adam had said had made him angry. "I don't like you poking around out there in strange places – out there – all alone."

"I heard the trees whispering – out here. Not only when I was scrying. Are they – is Cabeswater here? Is it physical?"

"I don't know," Ronan said, sounding defeated. "I keep telling you that. Not one goddamn fucking thing."

They stood face to face in the midday sun. An odd thought ran through Adam's mind _– 'Ronan's really pale. I bet he burned easily in the sun. I wonder if he blushes easily. I wonder if he gets flushed when he kisses someone.'_

"How 'bout those witches?" Ronan asked. "What do they think?"

"That the ley line needs to be repaired. I think they might know more. I don't know. They're very cryptic sometimes. I think they sort of know about you."

"Sort of?"

"They know I have a secret, but I don't know if they know what it is."

Ronan tilted his head and smirked. "I'm your secret?"

"I guess not all secrets are bad."

Ronan looked over Adam's shoulder. "Looks like you might have to tell your friend our secret."

"What – what friend?" Adam turned around. "Oh."

Gansey stood about fifty yards away on the top of a hill, looking at Adam talking to air.

Barking furiously, Sid bolted out of the outbuilding and took off at Gansey in a full run.

"Sid, stop!" Adam shouted. Sid halted in his tracks. "He's okay!"

Sid's stance changed immediately from attack to welcoming. Gansey didn't look convinced.

Ronan laughed. "He thinks you've lost your mind."

Under his breath, Adam said, "I'll think of something."

Without hesitation, Ronan replied, "Tell him."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah."

Ronan called for Sid. The dog bounded towards him. "We'll leave you two alone."

As Ronan walked away, Adam said, "Everything?"

"Everything."

~ ~ ~

Gansey reacted just how Adam had expected him to react when he told him of Ronan's existence – shock followed by intellectual excitement. The rest of the story brought a much more complicated reaction.

"Living things? Honest to God, Adam?"

"The dog."

"My God…"

They worked together, ripping off the wood from the outbuilding's windows. Adam told him everything that he knew about Ronan's predicament.

Gansey had a lot of questions but no answers. "I'm at a loss," he said as he pushed the wheelbarrow filled with wood through the field. "It's a unique situation." He shook his head slowly. "Ronan Lynch. Wow. This is fascinating. I know it, Adam. I just know it. The ley line here is the one that I'm supposed to save - I know it."

He told Adam that Blue thought that it was Gansey's destiny, too and that the key to everything was here at the Barns. Before Gansey left, they'd agreed that Gansey and Blue would come out soon to see if Blue's talent to amplify psychic energy might help them find something. The problem would be that they didn't know what exactly they were looking for.

Adam didn't see Ronan until later in the evening. He showed up while Adam worked on a paper in the living room. 

"What are you doing?" Ronan asked.

"Editing my assignment," Adam replied. "I have to finish it tonight. It's due tomorrow."

He hovered at Adam's side. "Remind me again why you're taking classes in the summer?"

"It'll give me a head start before the Fall semester on some of my intro courses."

"Nerd," Ronan mumbled.

Knowing he wouldn't get anything done with a bored Ronan sulking around all night, Adam put his laptop aside and asked, "Do you want me to put an album on for you?"

"Will it bother you?"

Adam stood up and went to the record player. "Not if I get to choose it. Deal?"

Ronan shrugged. "Sure."

Ronan watched over Adam's shoulder as Adam pulled out the album 'Talking Heads: 77.' He snorted.

"What?" Adam asked as the first song started to play.

_Wait, wait for the moment to come.  
Stand up, stand up and take my hand  
Believe, believe in mystery  
Love love love love is simple as 1-2-3_

Adam held up the album, showing Ronan the back cover. "Total nerds."

Ronan laughed. "You're not wrong, Parrish."

He settled on the sofa, throwing an arm over his eyes. 

"Where's Sid?" Adam asked.

"Chasing rabbits."

_I'm a know-it-all, I'm smartest man around  
That's right, you learn real fast through the smartest girl in town  
So here come a riddle, here come a clue  
If you were really smart, you'd know what to do  
When I say_

_Jump back, sit back, get back, relax  
It's okay  
I've called in sick I won't go to  
Work today  
I'd rather be with the  
One I love  
I neglect my duties, I be in trouble but_

_I've been to college, I've been to school  
I've met the people that you read about in books_

Adam tuned out David Bryne's voice and got lost in his assignment, answering questions about neurotransmitters in the brain.

_It's not, yesterday, anymore  
I go visiting and I talk loud  
I try to make myself clear  
In front of a face that's nearer_

_Than it's ever been before  
Not this close before  
Nearer than before  
Not this close before_

_It is, is a million, years ago  
I hear music and it sounds like bells  
I feel like my head is high  
I wish I could meet, every one_

_Meet them all over again  
Bring them up to my room  
Meet them all over again  
Everyone's up in my room_

He didn't move until side one ended. He got up, and instead of turning to side two, he asked Ronan, "What do you want on?"

"Just pick one at random," he replied.

Adam picked one from the middle of the box. He held it up to show Ronan.

"Cool – The Replacements."

_How young are you?  
How old am I?  
Let's count the rings around my eyes_

_How smart are you?  
How dumb am I?  
Don't count any of my advice_

_Oh, meet me anyplace or anywhere or anytime  
Now I don't care, meet me tonight  
If you will dare, I might dare_

_Call me on Thursday, if you will  
Or call me on Wednesday, better still  
Ain't lost yet, so I gotta be a winner  
Fingernails and a cigarette's a lousy dinner  
Young, are you? Wo oo_

He sat down and looked at his assignment, but something more pressing had risen to the top of his thoughts. "Ronan, do you feel happiness?"

"What?"

"You feel things, right? Like happiness and sadness?"

Ronan sat up. "Where is this coming from?"

"You don't have a body. You don't have a brain!"

"Thanks for the recap on my shortcomings, shithead."

Adam closed his laptop. "Sorry. I'm only trying to wrap my head around it all. I'm learning about how the brain controls our bodies and how we feel and you" – he waved his hand at Ronan – "are impossible according to science."

"That's me – Mr. Fucking Impossible. And, yes, I can feel happy in theory. Though, there isn't always a lot for me to feel happy about."

"Do you want to move on?" Adam asked.

"Move on - from this conversation? Yeah, I do."

"Gansey asked me if you wanted to move on – you know, to the afterlife. Do you believe in the afterlife?"

"I'm Catholic. So, yeah, I guess."

"Is that something you'd want then?"

"We both know that I'm not dead – _dead_. I'm stuck here. End of story."

The thought of Ronan here alone for eternity made Adam feel sick.

"Stop with the face, Parrish."

"I just don't understand what would make you want to be stuck here forever with…" A thought pushed itself forward somewhere from his memory. A Dreamer's dream stopped existing when the Dreamer died. "Oh – _oh_ , Ronan. Who?"

"Matthew. And don't give me crap about it. I know it's unethical. I was fucking three or some shit when I did it. I didn't know any better."

 _'Three…'_ Adam tried to wrap his brain around this information. Ronan had created a human being when he was 3. "Humans create life all the time - right? That's not unethical. Doing it on your own and out of thin air is odd but – "

"But if I die – really die, Matthew stops. He shuts down – lights out, nobody's home."

"Matthew can't live forever, though. Or can he? If you don't die, will he just keep going?"

"Annnnnnd we're back to the part where I don't know jack shit."

"We can plan for the future. Wait until Matthew reached a nice old age. Like 95 or something. Then see if we can help you –"

"What's this _'we'_ stuff? You're going off to Harvard and become a brilliant doctor, and you'll forget all about me."

"I could never forget about you."

"Yeah, well, you're going to have to. I'm stuck here, and you're free, so –"

"So, I'm free to do what I want. And that means I can come back here to see you and help you."

"I don't want your fucking charity visits."

"Don't make assumptions about me or my motivations, Ronan. It wouldn't be charity."

They looked intently at each other for a few beats. Ronan broke the silence and asked, "Why – why do you want to come back?"

"I'll come back here because I actually really like your company." He paused. "I don't… I don't make friends easily."

"That's sad, Parrish. I mean, look at me – all the people knocking at my door." He smirked. "I guess you're not too bad either. Sometimes you're actually fun… for a nerd." The smirk disappeared. "This sucks. Fucking sucks. I can create anything that I want, but I can't create a body for myself."

"Maybe you don't need one," Adam said. He'd been churning this idea over in his mind. "Maybe the ley line can make this form of you whole. Persephone said that I can acquire knowledge on how to do things when I scry, but I have to let myself really go to let the energy guide me."

"I don't like you messing around with this witchy shit. It's dangerous."

Truth be told, Adam enjoyed that aspect of it a little too much. He'd spent his entire life, every single day, being the target of danger that he couldn't control. Simply existing had put him in a dangerous situation. Now, he had the control to put himself into any situation that he wanted. Sending his mind out into a mysterious paranormal realm, searching for information that only a privileged few can experience, was something that he couldn't have ever dreamed of. He couldn't explain how it made him feel. He didn't think there was even a word for it.

"I'll be safe," Adam said. He leaned forward, closer to Ronan. "There are answers out there. When I…"

He couldn't articulate his feelings logically. His psychic feelings were just that – _feelings_. He couldn't back them up with facts or knowledge, but he had to try to explain it to Ronan.

"Persephone took me to different places on the ley line. Where it's whole, I feel its strength, and it feels right. Where it's broken, it feels unbalanced and that it needs to be fixed.

"Ronan, when I see you, I feel the same way. Everything feels unbalanced. I really believe that you aren't supposed to be like this – you aren't supposed to be broken. And when I imagine you unbroken and _alive_ – no, it's more like I can _see_ you like that, and it feels _right_."

"Don't…" Ronan said.

"Don't what?"

"Don't try to give me hope. I lost hope long before you got here. I lost hope long before I ended up stuck like this. You aren't going to change that."

"You're not meant to be like this! Let me help you. Let me –"

"What if I die instead? And Matthew… this is my punishment for my sins. I've accepted it."

"Punishment? For what? What haven't you told me? What could you have possibly done –"

"Haven't you need listening? Jesus H. Christ - my _brother_ – my _father_ – it's all my fault."

"What -?"

Lightning lit up the room, and only a second later, thunder shook the house. Before Adam could react, the room lit up again, and the crack of thunder felt like it had happened right above their heads.

The electricity went out.

"Shit," Adam said.

The music still playing from the turntable slowed, sounding eerie in the pitch blackness. Using the flashlight on his phone, Adam lifted the arm from the record. He used the light to guide him into the kitchen to get the emergency candles and matches. He came back into the living room and placed the candles on plates around the room. The light revealed that Ronan had moved to the window to look out at the storm.

"I'm the Greywaren."

Adam joined him at the window. "You're the Greywaren." Adam sighed. "Of course, you are."

"It's what Cabeswater calls me. Someone came here looking for me and killed my dad." He added quietly, "And my mom."

"Hold on. Let's back up." Lightning striking a tree off in the distance made Adam jump back away from the window. "Can we get away from the window, please?"

Adam moved to the sofa, and Ronan followed him. They sat in the middle. Adam turned towards Ronan. Ronan slouched forward, looking at the floor.

"Your dad, was he a Greywaren?"

Ronan began to speak very quickly as if he'd had this information queued up waiting to be shared for a very long time. "No. I heard my brother once, after my father died, arguing with someone on the phone. He said, _'My father had no idea what a Greywaren is – he was conning everyone.'_ I knew what it was – Cabeswater has been calling me that name for as long as I can remember. I confronted Declan. He told me that there are other people out there sort of like me. He called them dream thieves. He said they hear the word Greywaren in their own dreams. People thought it was an object, though. Declan wanted it to stay that way."

Adam said, "I feel like I'm missing a big piece of the story here."

"Oh, that. Yeah." Ronan sat back and faced Adam. "There's an extensive, international, underground market that deals in supernatural objects and possibly people too – I don't know. They're sick fucks. That's how my father made his money. He sold his dream objects. Maybe some of mine too. Who the fuck knows? And he started to train my brother on how to deal the objects when Declan was just a kid. Declan doesn't know that I know all of this. I worked out a lot when I was able to eavesdrop on him."

"Jesus," Adam breathed. "They came looking for you. Your dad –"

"Died because of me," Ronan said without looking away from Adam.

"No, Ronan, no. That's not your fault. None of that is your fault. None of it." Adam wanted to lash out at Niall Lynch for endangering his family in the first place, but he had enough sense to realize that this wasn't the time. "You are – I mean what you can do…"

_'And all he wanted out of this life was to bring alternative music to teens in small towns.'_

Adam swallowed down his growing emotions towards Ronan and finished what he had been trying to say. "You're _you_. You didn't ask for it, and you certainly are not responsible for your father's death."

"I had to have done something awful to end up like this."

"I don't believe that the universe works that way," Adam said. "Bad things happen to good people, and good things happen to bad people all the time."

"You think it's all just random, then?"

"No. Your father made choices that put you in danger. I think we both know the logical conclusion to what happened to you is that someone who had been a part of your father's world came here to hurt you. They did something to your body and thought they'd killed you, but because your – I don't know what to call it – your soul or essence? You get the point – wasn't in your body, so you didn't really properly die. That wasn't random. That was of your father's choices."

"Yeah, well, mine too. I got wasted that night."

"The punishment doesn't fit the crime."

Ronan stretched his arm out over the back of the sofa and pulled his bended knee up onto the cushions. "I'm not going to win with you – am I?"

Adam smiled. "No. Because I'm right."

"But Matthew is –"

"Isn't your fault either. You were practically a baby who didn't know how to control this magic that you have. You weren't responsible for that."

"Whether that's true or not, his life is my reasonability now."

Adam pulled his knee up and relaxed against the back cushions, placing his head a mere few inches away from Ronan's arm.

"Ronan, you can't be like this forever. It's torture."

For the first time, Adam forgot for a moment and reached out to touch Ronan's knee. His hand stopped when he remembered. It hovered there as he struggled to find something to say. Ronan looked down at Adam's hand and continued to look down at it even after Adam pulled it back and put it on his own knee.

"Okay."

"Okay - what?"

"Will you keep an eye on Matthew? And when he's like ninety or something, you'll come back here and tell me. And we'll try to figure out how I can die."

"If we can't fix you, I promise I'll do that."

"It's a big thing to ask."

"I promise," Adam said again without hesitation. "We might need a plan 'b'. What if something happens to me? Gansey could be plan 'b'?"

"How'd he react anyway? Did the Preppy piss himself with excitement?"

Adam laughed. "No – but close."

The rain had stopped, but the lights hadn't turned back on. Adam and Ronan sat in near darkness for the next few hours talking. The stillness from the lack of the constant white noise of electricity made it feel like they were encased in a protective bubble. Adam felt like they were sitting in a universe all their own.

Adam told Ronan about Blue and her ability. Ronan told Adam stories about his family and the Barns.

Ronan asked him silly questions. Like who would win in a fight, Batman or Superman. They both agreed that Superman would kick Batman's ass.

"If you were in a band, which instrument would you play?" Ronan asked

"I don't know," Adam said. "What do you think I would play?"

"Keyboards."

"Really?"

"Hell yeah, with those hands. Or bass guitar."

"What do you mean, _'those hands'_?"

"Long, lean, elegant."

"Elegant…" Adam said, along with a nervous laugh. He turned his hands over. He'd never looked at them like that before. He asked - "What about you?" - to change the subject.

"Obviously, lead vocals. Or…" Ronan tapped out a complicated beat on his legs. "The drums."

They talked about their Aglionby experiences and found similarities and shared inside jokes. Adam found out that his U.S. History professor had taught Ronan too. And that Ronan had taken tennis as his PE elective. That both surprised Adam and made him wish he could see Ronan in a white tennis uniform and a mohawk.

It grew late, and Adam had been up early. After he yawned three times in the span of a few minutes, Ronan stood up. "I'm tired of talking. Go to bed, Parrish."

Adam's bedroom seemed far away and dark and lonely. So, he curled up on the sofa. "I'll just lie here for a little while. Have to call the electric company…" He yawned. "First thing."

"For Christ's sake, put a pillow under your head!"

Adam stuffed one of the sofa pillows under his head and grabbed another, curling it into his chest. Ronan started humming.

"I know that song," Adam whispered. He opened his eyes and saw Ronan sitting in the chair, eyes closed, lounging in his usual cool casual manner.

Ronan's humming turned into soft singing, the tempo of the song slower than Adam had heard it before. Closing his eyes again, Adam hugged the pillow tighter to his chest and let Ronan's baritone voice lull him to sleep.

_Ever fallen in love with someone  
Ever fallen in love, in love with someone  
Ever fallen in love, in love with someone  
You shouldn't have fallen in love with?_

_I can't see much of a future  
Unless we find out what's to blame, what a shame  
And we won't be together much longer  
Unless we realize that we are the same_

_Ever fallen in love with someone  
Ever fallen in love, in love with someone  
Ever fallen in love, in love with someone  
You shouldn't have fallen in love with?_

~ ~ ~

"I'm bored. Aren't you bored?" Ronan asked while he paced from the window back to stare at the turntable as if he could scare the electric to turn back on.

"Ronan, please," Adam begged. "I have to finish this assignment. I have only forty-percent power on my laptop battery and..." He looked at his phone. "Thirty-two percent on my phone. If I don't get this done by the time the battery runs out, I'll have to drive into town to charge them."

"Fine," Ronan huffed. "You'd think they'd have it fixed by now. It's going to be dark soon."

"There are a lot of lines down. They might not be back until tomorrow morning."

Grumbling under his breath, Ronan left the room. Without the Ronan sized distraction, Adam finished easily. He used his phone's hotspot to submit the assignment. Before he logged off, he risked the limited power that he had looking at the grades section. He selected the function to compare his grades against the low and median in the class. With 'As' in both courses, he had to be at the top or close to the top of each class. He used the grade simulation tool to see what his final grade could be if he received only 85% on his few remaining assignments. Then he put in 70%. Then 98%.

Sid started barking his _'I want to play'_ bark. Before shutting his laptop to see what was going on out back, Adam looked one last time at his grades. Seeing those As made him feel like maybe he did belong at Havard.

Adam found Ronan sitting on the steps of the porch while Sid danced happily between him and the setting sun that was just about to dip below the trees.

"I can't throw anything, shithead!" Ronan yelled. Sid got down on his two front paws, his backside sticking up in the air. He barked. "You dumb fuck. Go chase rabbits or something."

Adam grabbed a tennis ball from a drawer before he stepped out on the porch. Sid saw Adam and the ball in his hand and went wild, barking and running from side-to-side. He cocked back his arm and threw the ball as far as he could. Sid took off after it.

"You couldn't have dreamt a less energetic dog," Adam said, sitting next to Ronan.

"What the fuck did I know about dogs when I made him. I was a stupid kid."

"What? I'm missing something here – _again_."

"Sid's been around for a while in Cabeswater."

"What's a while?"

"I don't know. I didn't jot it down in my day planner. I was like nine or ten – you know, the age where boys want a dog."

"And you brought him here to terrify my father?"

"Well, he's a psycho bastard and, since I couldn't punch him in the face, Sid was the next best thing."

Adam remembered the look of pure terror and panic on his father's face as he ran for his truck. He smiled. He looked at Ronan, and Ronan looked back.

Sid returned with the ball and dropped it at Adam's feet. Adam threw it again.

"He won't stop," Ronan said. "He'll only stop if one of us tells him to."

"I don't mind."

They sat in silence and watched Sid retrieve the ball and bring in back again and again. Eventually, it grew dark, and Adam's arm grew tired, and Ronan grew bored. "Let's take the car for a spin," he said.

"Did you forget what happened last time?"

"Yeah, I got yanked the fuck back into Cabeswater. So don't go off the property."

Adam wasn't so sure.

"Come on, man," Ronan said. "I got a taste of it now."

"I'll put Sid inside so we don't hit him."

Ronan grinned.

Inside the car, Ronan instructed Adam which tape to select, and Adam drove the BMW to the edge of the driveway. "We can't go beyond the stone pillars. I'm going to drive there, turn around, and we can pick up speed on the way back. I don't want to risk –"

"Okay - whatever. Let's go!"

Adam drove the driveway cautiously, staying around fifteen mph. Beside him, Ronan fidgeted. Adam asked, "You said _'yanked_ ' back to Cabeswater. Is it different than when you go there on your own?"

"Yeah. When I go on my own, I step into whatever area I think of. When I get yanked back, I end up in the dark spot and have to fight my way out."

"The dark spot? Do you know what it is?"

"Probably a manifestation of my fucking pain and anger or some shit like that. When I'm in it, it's a fucking mind trip. All the bad shit I've ever felt hits me at once."

"I thought Cabeswater was your dream place."

"Dreams don't always have happy endings. Now, stop with this depressing shit. Roll down the windows!"

"But you can't…" Adam stopped himself from reminding Ronan that he can't feel the wind. He rolled down both of their windows. He put the car in reverse and turned it around to face from where they came. He already knew the drill – turn on the music and pedal to the metal.

He turned to Ronan. "Ready?"

Ronan leaned back in the seat, his elbow sticking out the window. "Born fucking ready!"

Adam started the tape. A few notes of the bass and he laughed. "Good choice."

"I thought you'd like that, Parrish."

Adam moved the car forward. Knowing they only had so much room, he took his time gaining speed. He still felt unsure around the curves of the narrow driveway.

_I can't seem to face up to the facts  
I'm tense and nervous and I can't relax  
I can't sleep 'cause my bed's on fire  
Don't touch me I'm a real live wire_

Once they broke through the forest and had the vast fields of Ronan's home in front of them, Adam floored the car.

_Psycho Killer  
Qu'est-ce que c'est  
Fa-fa-fa-fa-fa-fa-fa-fa-fa-far better  
Run, run, run, run, run, run, run away oh oh_

_Psycho Killer  
Qu'est-ce que c'est  
Fa-fa-fa-fa-fa-fa-fa-fa-fa-far better  
Run, run, run, run, run, run, run away oh oh oh oh  
Yeah yeah yeah yeah!_

Ronan let out a long yell. They were fast approaching the driveway, and Adam had to make a choice.

_You start a conversation you can't even finish it  
You're talking a lot, but you're not saying anything  
When I have nothing to say, my lips are sealed  
Say something once, why say it again?_

Adam slowed and carefully turned the car around at the end of the drive and headed back down the road to do it again.

_Psycho Killer  
Qu'est-ce que c'est  
Fa-fa-fa-fa-fa-fa-fa-fa-fa-far better  
Run, run, run, run, run, run, run away oh oh oh  
Psycho Killer  
Qu'est-ce que c'est  
Fa-fa-fa-fa-fa-fa-fa-fa-fa-far better  
Run, run, run, run, run, run, run away oh oh oh oh  
Yeah yeah yeah yeah_

"That was boring as fucking shit, man," Ronan said. You can do better than that."

"I don't want to –"

"Have fun? Live a little? Act like a teenager and not an old man?"

At the stone pillars, the song changed, and Ronan started singing out the top of his lungs. Adam gained more confidence and picked up more speed than the last time.

_Drive!  
Drive!_

_My baby drove up in a brand new Cadillac  
Yes, she did  
My baby drove up in a brand new Cadillac  
She said, "Hey, come here, Daddy"  
"I ain't never comin' back"_

_Baby, baby, won't you hear my plea?  
C'mon, sugar, just come on back to me  
She said, "Balls to you, Big Daddy"_

Out of nowhere, a horse with a rider showed up in the middle of the road galloping at full speed. Adam slammed on the brake and the clutch. They didn't stop in time. The M1 skidded and slid into the horse - and then slid right through it. The car eventually stopped, but the horse kept on. Adam saw that the rider was Noah.

"Noah's back!" Ronan shouted.

"I can see that."

"That sure was fucking weird."

"You can say that again."

"That sure was fucking weird."

"Asshole," Adam said, laughing.

He backed up the car and stopped where they'd started a few minutes ago. Ronan told him to rewind the tape back to the beginning of the song.

While the wind whipped through the car and the music rattled the car's speakers, Adam continued the loops up and down the driveway, gaining speed and confidence each time.

_Baby, baby, won't you hear my plea?  
Oh come on, just hear my plea  
She said, "Balls to you, Daddy"  
She ain't coming back to me_

Everything Adam did in his life had a point. Even the tiniest mundane task pushed him towards some bigger goal. He'd never had the time to fit in recreational activities. The act of driving a vintage, expensive car to nowhere was silly and pointless, and Adam was giddy with the joy of it.

Adam laughed.

Ronan sang.

_Baby, baby drove up in a Cadillac  
I said, "Jesus Christ, where'd you get that Cadillac?"  
She said, "Balls to you, big Daddy"_

Before they reached the driveway, Adam looked at Ronan, and Ronan looked back at him – he was always looking back at him – Ronan grinned. Adam grinned back.

_She ain't never coming back!  
She ain't never coming back!  
She ain't never coming back!  
She ain't never coming back!  
She ain't never coming back!_

Adam didn't slow down this time. He slid the car into a dramatic sideways stop. Ronan shouted, "Fucking A!" The tires kicked up dust all around them. And Adam couldn't stop grinning.

"Fucking badass, Parrish!" Ronan yelled.

Adam pressed down on the parking brake and lowered the music. "I could've blown a sidewall."

"Sure. Feels good to do dumbshit for no reason – doesn't it?"

"Maybe. Yeah. Once in awhile."

"Kids still race cars?" Ronan mimicked banging his head on the dashboard. " _'Kids!'_ Christ, I sound like an old geezer."

"Yeah. Lots of rich assholes street race down – oh, sorry."

"I know I'm a rich asshole, Adam."

"BMW made an M2."

"Yeah?"

"Started production in 2016. You can get one with a 7-speed dual-clutch transmission, which has a 'Smokey Burnout' mode."

"Fuck – really? Bet that baby looks good too."

"Is driving what you miss the most?"

"Yeah. Especially on cold nights. I'd take this baby out and roll down all the windows and drive – goose-bumps on my skin – my teeth chattering until they felt like they'd crack – drive so fast I felt like I could drive right off a cliff and fly."

"Is driving the first thing that you'd want to do if you had a body again?"

It had felt like a simple question. Ronan didn't respond like it was one. "No. Driving isn't the first thing that I'd do," he said in a quiet voice that didn't sound like Ronan.

"What's the first thing that you'd want to do then?"

Ronan didn't answer. For the first time, Ronan didn't look back at Adam.

There was a brief moment of silence before a new song played from the tape.

_I know a place up in the air  
It's not very far, I've been there before  
I know a place, cool and warm  
Cooling my blood, warming my heart_

Something had suddenly changed between them.

_So come on down and walk with me, and tell me I'm your man  
I only want to know a couple of things about you  
Where were you when I was in so much trouble with myself  
And do you still believe in me like I believe_

Adam laughed, an awkward, nervous sound that didn't feel like it had come from him. "Why are you always so difficult, Ronan? It's a simple question."

"It's not simple at all."

Adam groaned. "Why do you have to make everything so hard?" He banged his forehead on the steering wheel and let it stay there, waiting for whatever this thing hanging in the air between them to disappear.

Cold pushed against Adam's cheek and his good ear; it dried the sheen of sweat on his temple. It felt refreshing and comforting on the sweaty, hot summer night. Ronan had moved closer. Adam closed his eyes and ached to pull it closer.

"Ask me again," Ronan whispered. Adam opened his eyes. "Keep them closed, Adam. Please."

_I've been thinking good good things about you  
Cool and warm, good good things about you  
If you've been thinking good good things about me  
So cool and warm when you put your arms around me_

Adam closed them and whispered, "What's the first thing that you'd want to do then?" His heart pounded in his chest while he waited for Ronan's response. 

_On my own, I know where to go  
Living the lie, in your eyes  
I know a place, cool and warm  
Cooling my blood, warming my heart_

"I'd kiss you. I'd kiss you because it'd feel like if I didn't, I'd really die and be gone forever."

Adam thought, _'What if I didn't want you to kiss me?'_ But he didn't say it. He couldn't say it. Because it wasn't true. He simply, quietly, breathed out _'Ronan,'_ or maybe he said _'please'_ \- he didn't know the difference right now.

The coldness pressing against him disappeared. He looked up. Ronan had left the car. With his hands in his pockets, Ronan walked through the headlights that split the darkness into two.

_So come on down and walk with me, and tell me I'm your man  
Let's see if I can get it right with you this time around  
I'm not afraid of losing you my little girl  
But do you still believe in me like I believe  
I've been thinking good good things about you  
Cool and warm, good good things about you  
If you've been thinking good good things about me  
So cool and warm when you put your arms around me_

Adam let him go.

He parked the car back in the barns and went back inside the farmhouse. He let Sid out and told him to go find Ronan.

He looked out the door into the night, listening to the crickets sing. An owl hooted from a nearby tree, followed by the sound of a bat screeching from the sky. Adam shared his own voice with the darkness.

"I'd let you kiss me. Then I'd kiss you back."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'd like to note that in this chapter Ronan calls himself Mr Fucking Impossible _before_ we knew the title of the 2nd CDtH book. ;)
> 
> Artists and songs in order as they appeared in this chapter:  
> Talking Heads - Uh-Oh, Love Comes To Town  
> Talking Heads - New feeling  
> The Replacements - I Will Dare  
> Buzzcocks - Ever Fallen in Love (With Someone You Shouldn't've)  
> Talking Heads - Psycho Killer  
> The Clash – Brand New Cadillac  
> Descendents - Good Good Things
> 
> Spotify playlist: https://open.spotify.com/playlist/2OxMjbHYbGJcMk4Cw1kzRu?si=rSWqDLSiQmG19BnDyt4lJQ


End file.
